


Matcha & Honey

by mnabokov



Series: 176° Centigrade (世界) [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Banter, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Bondage, M/M, Meet-Cute, Office Sex, One Night Stands, Pastries, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Stress Baking, Traveling, i know the tags look weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnabokov/pseuds/mnabokov
Summary: In which Sehun stress-bakes, has an unforgettable one-night stand, becomes a frequent flyer, and has unparalleled sexual tension with his very attractive boss.





	Matcha & Honey

He looks familiar, like one of those faces you’d see on the cover of a magazine, or maybe on an advertisement on the subway. He’s attractive, Sehun won’t deny that, with his tan skin and dark eyes and perpetual smirk.  
  
But he’s definitely not someone that Sehun has ever met before, so it’s a surprise when the handsome man abruptly leaves his conversation with an older, white-haired businessman, and walks towards Sehun.  
  
“So how have you been?” the stranger says casually. His nametag reads, “Kai.”  
  
If Sehun were more sober, and if he had more common sense, he would’ve walked away.  
  
“Fine,” Sehun says slowly, “And you?”  
  
“Have you had enough to drink?” Without waiting for a reply, the man says, “Come with me to get another drink.”  
  
They walk toward the other end of the room, where the bar is. Underneath them, music from the club on the first floor pounds loudly.  
  
The whole thing is Luhan’s fault.  
  
Alright, so maybe if Minseok’s boss hadn’t given him extra time off, then Minseok wouldn’t have come to home all the way from China last week. Not that Sehun has anything against Minseok or anything, but if Minseok hadn’t been around, Luhan wouldn’t have canceled on Sehun. And then this week Luhan and Minseok wouldn’t have dragged Sehun out to make up it. So it’s probably Minseok’s boss’s fault.  
  
Either way, Minseok and Luhan are having the time of their lives at the moment. EXO’s one of the most high-end clubs in the area; Sehun’s lived here his whole life and this is his first time here, thanks to Minseok.  
  
The evening had started out alright -- the three of them went out for Korean barbecue to celebrate Minseok coming back and Sehun’s new job, and it was nice hearing Minseok’s stories about life abroad -- but Minseok had insisted on taking them to EXO, his treat, VIP tickets. The first floor of the building is EXO, the second a casual conference room outfitted with a bar, and above that is a hotel of sorts.  
  
Anyway, the club had been loud and full of people, overwhelming and annoying, so Sehun went upstairs to find a cleaner bathroom. He’d been messing around on his phone and was about to head back downstairs when he looked up and made eye-contact with Kai.  
  
“Do I know you?” Sehun asks.  
  
“No, but you could pretend to,” the man says lowly. His touch is almost imperceptible where his fingers brush Sehun’s elbow, guiding him toward the bar on the other side of the room. “That was a terrible conversation with a man whose name I can’t even remember. Thank you for humoring me, by the way.”  
  
“Then why would you have a conversation with him in the first place?”  
  
“Do you think I wanted to?”  
  
Sehun makes a noise of disbelief. The bartender hands over drinks without asking. “Kai?” Sehun asks.  
  
The stranger grimaces. “Please, call me Jongin.”  
  
Jongin says, “For someone who’s dressed up to come to a club, you don’t seem like you’re enjoying yourself much. EXO’s rather an elite place, you know. You should make the most of your time here.”  
  
“Says the one who just left a conversation with someone whose name you can’t remember.” Sehun raises an eyebrow. “And why are you trying to help me anyway?”  
  
Jongin’s fingers suddenly tighten on Sehun’s elbow; Sehun’s neck prickles when he feels the weight of a gaze from across the room.  
  
Abruptly, Jongin leans in to speak quietly. “See this room? Half the people in it are over forty years old, and of that half, another half are over fifty. Not exactly clubbing age. Take a look around again and tell me I'm here to have a good time.”  
  
This floor is more well-lit than EXO, and Sehun can see many of the people in it are wearing formal clothing: business slacks and dress shirts, long pencil skirts and dress shoes. It seems to be an informal meeting of some sort. “You’re here for work,” Sehun says, unimpressed.  
  
Mockingly, Jongin goes, “Ten points.”  
  
“Why here? Aren’t there companies for you to do work in?” Sehun asks, though he thinks he has the beginnings of an answer already.  
  
Jongin holds his gaze for a moment. “Do you always ask so many questions?”  
  
“Do you always pretend to know strangers?”  
  
Jongin’s gaze flits down before coming back up to meet Sehun’s eyes. Jongin smirks. “No.”  
  
Sehun feels himself flush. “I should get back downstairs.”  
  
Jongin looks like he wants to say more, but the older man from his previous conversation is edging towards Sehun’s soon-to-be-vacated position, and despite Jongin’s good looks, Sehun would rather be back in EXO than in a room full of businesspeople with dubious motives.  
  
“Kai!” someone calls out, and Sehun takes the opportunity to slip back downstairs.  
  
“Where were you?” Luhan frowns when Sehun finds him again on the dance floor. Luhan’s eyeliner is smudged and Minseok’s bobbing his head off-rhythm.  
  
“Upstairs,” Sehun yells, to make himself heard over the booming music.  
  
“What?” Luhan yells back.  
  
“Let’s do shots!” Minseok interjects.  
  
“I love this place,” Luhan says into Sehun’s ear, “Let’s come back tomorrow!”  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say no to shots.  
  
  
  
\--  
  
  
  
It must start with a K.  
  
Kong, Kwon, or Kye.  
  
“ -- so you really should visit our location in Bangkok, Kai, it’s state of the art!”  
  
Jongin’s off his game tonight. He can feel the lack of sleep catching up with him, can’t stop himself from looking around the room, trying to find some excuse to stop talking to this man whose name _cannot_ start with a k; no, Jongin mentally revises his list. Sunwoo, Son, or Shin?  
  
“I’ll have my secretary mark you down for next month, Mr. Kim, how’s that?” the old man rattles on.  
  
There’s a young man next to the bathrooms, wearing a white shirt that’s a little too sheer, a little too low-cut, and pants far too tight to be here for the same reason as Jongin. He looks up from his phone and makes eye-contact with Jongin for what has to be at least the third time within the last twenty minutes.  
  
“Schedule me for the second Saturday of next month,” Jongin smiles easily, and hastily extracts himself from the conversation to meet the young man standing by himself.  
  
“So how have you been?” Jongin puts on a practiced smile, but inwardly his stomach twists: the man’s even more attractive up close, his skin pale and smooth, his expression unreadable. Jongin prays that other the man won’t call security on him.  
  
“Fine. And you?”  
  
If they were downstairs, instead of up in this stuffy conference room, Jongin would already be flirting his way into this guy’s pants. But instead, “Have you had enough to drink?” Jongin asks. “Come with me to get another drink.”  
  
The man is refreshingly blunt and his voice is dry and clean, unlike the businessmen who speak cloyingly, saccharine sweet like artificial sugar. This man is insolent, something Jongin hates in his workers and employees. He is _mouthy_ , as he sharply counters Jongin, and it goes straight down into Jongin’s pants.  
  
“Do you always ask so many questions?”  
  
“Do you always pretend to know strangers?”  
  
Jongin may be pretending to know this man, but he doesn’t have to fake the heat when he looks over the stranger’s thin body. He lets the corner of his mouth turn in a smirk. “No.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Jongin can see Mr. Shek? Mr. Sun? circling a perimeter around their conversation, searching for an opening, a chance to jump back in, in the same way a shark hunts for blood. Jongin suppresses the urge to shudder.  
  
“I should get back downstairs.”  
  
_You should get in a taxi and come home with me, so I can see if you’re just as mouthy in bed as you are in conversation_ , is what Jongin wants to say, but the older man’s coming closer. Jongin reluctantly lets the young man go. Work comes first.  
  
But Jongin’s still thinking of the young man on the way home from EXO, long after he’s secured a deal with Mr. Sun (Jongin read it off his business card). He thinks of that milky skin, licking, biting, sucking on that pale throat.  
  
Jongin goes home and takes a long, long shower.  
  
There’s a follow-up meeting the next day and Jongin goes through the motions as best he can. At the end of the meeting, it’s already close to one in the morning. Normally, Jongin would head home, but instead, he heads downstairs, to the nightclub that is EXO; he loses the tie, unbuttons the top of his dress shirt and runs a hand through his hair.  
  
Jongin tells himself that he’s only there to relax a bit, but that sounds like a lie even to himself.  
  
Jongin sees him at the bar, drinking and talking to a companion. Jongin situates himself at the opposite side, waves over a bartender -- who, by the way, recognizes him and her eyes start to widen until he discreetly shakes his head -- to order drinks for the young man over there.  
  
Music thrums around them; perhaps before, Jongin would’ve enjoyed himself on the dance floor, but nowadays he’s been consumed by his work, and not in a bad way. His father’s been pushing for him to take more and more responsibility over the company -- understandable, as the years drag on. But it just makes this whole situation seem a bit desperate, so much that by the time the bartender’s given the drinks to Jongin’s guy, Jongin’s thinking about heading home, ordering take-out and going straight to bed.  
  
“If I met someone yesterday, pretended to be friends with him, had a conversation with him, and then met him the next day, does that mean I'm friends with him?”  
  
For someone who’s been drinking, the man sounds surprisingly lucid.  
  
Jongin quashes the thrill that rises in his gut. “Depends,” he turns around, smiles at the guy. “How did you feel about him?”  
  
“He was cocky,” the other man says, taking a seat next to Jongin. “Presumptuous.”  
  
“Any redeeming qualities?”  
  
“Moderately attractive.”  
  
Jongin raises an eyebrow. “Moderately?”  
  
The other man’s gaze sweeps down and up Jongin’s figure. “I’d have to see more to find out.”  
  
“What’s your name,” Jongin says, suddenly, perhaps hurriedly.  
  
When the other man doesn’t reply immediately, Jongin knows that he should’ve just continued the flirtation, left the whole thing anonymous, but --  
  
“Sehun,” the guy says, quieter, barely audible over the loud music. Someone must jostle him from behind, because Sehun leans in closer, close enough that Jongin can smell his cologne.  
  
“God,” Sehun says, laughing abruptly. Jongin only has a moment to admire his pale throat when Sehun continues, “You must be desperate or something.”  
  
“I -- what?” This seduction is going terribly, terribly awry. And Jongin shouldn’t even want this -- Sehun is much too… snarky and impudent, nothing like Jongin’s ever wanted. But there’s something about him --  
  
“I just get the feeling that you’re normally a lot smoother than this.”  
  
Something about that lingers in the back of Jongin’s mind -- how would Sehun know? Could he guess that only from what he said yesterday? -- but he pushes it away, leans in closer so that there’s less than a few inches between them. “Would you believe me if I said it’s been a while?”  
  
Sehun’s lips tug upwards. “No.”  
  
“Would you believe me if I said it’s just you?”  
  
Sehun clears his throat, looks away, his eyes dragging towards the dance floor, where bodies are gyrating to the obnoxious music and God, Jongin needs to look him in the eyes again. “Let me take you home,” Jongin insists, pushing himself into Sehun’s space.  
  
Sehun’s gaze is sharp, calculating when he turns back to look at Jongin again. “Would it be worth it?”  
  
“I’ll fuck you so good,” Jongin whispers; “however you like it.” He wants to touch Sehun so he twists his hands into fists.  
  
“And if I want to fuck you?”  
  
“I’ll be on my hands and knees.” Jongin leans in closer. “How do you like it, huh? Tell me, Sehun.”  
  
“Are we really going to have this conversation here,” Sehun hisses, his expressionless facade dropping. Jongin wants to think that he can see a flush on Sehun’s cheeks.  
  
“It’s either here or in the car.”  
  
Sehun takes a swing from his drink.  
  
This is a game Jongin can play. “Tell me how you like it, and I’ll give it to you, like that, Sehun.” Jongin steps half an inch closer, and Sehun sways towards him, so that Sehun’s right hipbone brushes against Jongin’s upper thigh.  
  
Warningly, Sehun says, “I won’t make it that easy for you.”  
  
The reply comes easy. “I love a challenge,” Jongin says. This is a game Jongin always wins.  
  
There’s no mistaking Sehun’s flush.  
  
Jongin leans back. “What do you say?”  
  
“You can give it your best shot.”  
  
  
  
Drinks paid for, Jongin learns that Sehun took a taxi with his friend, so Jongin offers to drive them both.  
  
“Of course you drive a Mustang,” Sehun snorts when he sees the car.  
  
Jongin pats the silver car. “Nothing but the best.”  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes. Jongin’s gut tightens.  
  
“What do you drive?”  
  
Sehun smiles, tight-lipped. “Public transportation.”  
  
Jongin barks out a laugh and unlocks the car.  
  
They arrive at Jongin’s safely, and Sehun lets out a low whistle when he sees the penthouse. “Very nice.”  
  
Jongin puts his keys on the marble countertop. “Can I get you something to drink?”  
  
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Sehun says, but he already sounds distracted as he begins looking at the art on Jongin’s walls, familiarizing himself with the inside of the penthouse.  
  
Jongin could make something fancy, but he just gets some of his best beer. He hopes that Sehun will appreciate the simplicity.  
  
A poster promoting the showing of a rendition of Swan Lake hangs from the wall; this is the one decoration that Sehun has stopped to look at, and of course, the only one that Jongin had added when he bought the penthouse. Jongin can’t tell if he’s surprised or not that Sehun can read him so easily.  
  
Jongin puts the glass of beer on the counter in front of the poster, next to where Sehun’s left hand grips the marble edge. Jongin moves to step back from where he’d gotten close, but Sehun reaches out, takes Jongin’s wrist. There’s no resistance as Jongin moves forward, his breath on the curve of Sehun’s neck, his chest almost touching Sehun’s back. Jongin puts his right hand on Sehun’s right hip, effectively blocking him in.  
  
“Thank you,” Sehun says, “For the beer.”  
  
Jongin hums in acknowledgement, leans forward to brush his lips against the hollow of Sehun’s neck.  
  
A hum of arousal bursts in Jongin’s stomach when Sehun tilts his head back, revealing the column of his throat. He forces himself to move slowly as he kisses the exposed skin there, relishing the pulse of Sehun’s vein against his lips.  
  
“How do you want this,” Jongin murmurs.  
  
Sehun’s cheek brushes against Jongin’s temple. In answer, Sehun leans back, presses the entirety of his back against Jongin’s chest, so that his ass neatly slots up against Jongin’s half-hard cock. “Why don’t you fuck me, so I can see how good you really are?”  
  
Jongin growls, half in annoyance, half in anticipation. He rocks them forward, pushing Sehun against the counter and pinning him there, so he can feel the line of Jongin’s cock, thick and quickly getting harder, pushing into Sehun’s pert ass.  
  
“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this?”  
  
Sehun laughs, as though he’s not the one with his hands in front of him, bent over the counter; he laughs like this is exactly what he expected Jongn to do. “Are you sure you’ll be good enough for me to come?”  
  
Jongin’s knees hit the tile floor so fast he’ll have bruises on his kneecaps for weeks.  
  
He starts by nosing his way under Sehun’s sweater, lips quickly finding the warm skin at the small of Sehun’s back. Both of Jongin’s hands hold onto Sehun’s waist, as he kisses right above Sehun’s beltline. Jongin drags his lips down, pressing right over the line of Sehun’s ass. And Sehun chuckles. “One comment about your skills and you’re on your knees for me. Insecure much?”  
  
Jongin mouths at the crease there before nudging Sehun to turn around. The other man ends up with his back against the counter, legs spread so that Jongin can kneel between them. “No,” Jongin says, “I'm just eager to prove you wrong.”  
  
And Jongin would like to think that he does prove Sehun wrong. He undoes Sehun’s belt and fly with ease, doesn’t even hesitate before pushing down Sehun’s underwear and swallowing his cock. Jongin bobs his head with a practiced ease, sliding up and down a few times before Sehun sort of -- pats Jongin’s head kindly, and, how condescending can you be?  
  
Jongin pulls off with an irritated pop. “What?”  
  
Sehun smirks, leaning against the counter with an easy slouch. “Nothing, you were doing fine.” Sehun nods his head, as if to say, go on, or go ahead.  
  
Jongin scowls then redoubles his efforts, taking Sehun in deep, so deep his eyes almost water -- it’s definitely been a while since Jongin’s had to work this hard on the giving end -- then humming and licking and tonguing around the head of Sehun’s cock as good as he knows how. Sehun makes an appreciative noise, and Jongin fondles Sehun’s balls, tugging and pulling.  
  
A tug on Jongin’s hair is all that he gets before Sehun comes with a hitched inhale, right into the pocket of Jongin’s cheek. Faster than Jongin expected.  
  
But apparently he recovers quick enough. “Very nice,” Sehun pants out, chest heaving. When Jongin looks up through his lashes, Sehun’s still got this smirk on his lips. “No, really -- ”  
  
Jongin loves dirty talk, and he’s all for communication in bed, but the way Sehun does it -- “God, do you ever shut up?” Jongin asks sharply. He stands and winces when his knees groan.  
  
Sehun shoots him a withering look. “Why don’t you make me?”  
  
“Do you want me to?” Jongin asks bluntly.  
  
Sehun folds to his knees gracefully and looks up. His face is perfectly pale, lips unbelievably red and soft. Jongin doesn’t know how he got so lucky.  
  
“If I didn’t, would I have asked?”  
  
Sehun’s hands are slender and deft, Jongin notices, as Sehun undoes Jongin’s pants and pulls down his underwear. Jongin’s cock juts out, thick and hard. Jongin reaches out and threads his fingers into Sehun’s hair.  
  
“Are you going to give it to me?” Sehun asks lightly.  
  
Jongin counters, “Do you really want it?”  
  
“I can show you how good I am.” Sehun leans back but Jongin doesn’t let him get far, reflexively tugs on Sehun’s hair. Jongin’s about to blurt out an apology for pulling, but Sehun’s hand darts up, firmly presses Jongin’s hand back on Sehun’s head.  
  
Instead of saying sorry, Jongin sees the way Sehun’s pupils dilate; he says, slightly teasingly, “I thought this was about me showing you how good _I_ am.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun slurs, and he sounds a little out of breath; his eyes are glassy and cheeks flushed, probably both from the alcohol and the sex. Sehun leans back but Jongin pulls sharply, holds him in place. Jongin tilts his head in question -- he doesn’t want to hurt Sehun, but he can’t ignore the current of tension building in the room, circulating them like, like electricity. Sehun looks at him, eyes half-lidded. “But isn’t this what you want? Don’t you want to shut me up? Fill my mouth with your cock?”  
  
Fuck, yeah. That sounds exactly like what Jongin wants -- except he hadn’t thought that that was okay, he hadn’t even known that that was on the table, should he --  
  
Sehun spares him. “Don’t you want me to be quiet? Maybe if you give it to me, I’ll shut up.”  
  
“I don’t know if you deserve it,” Jongin rasps darkly, recovering quickly. Hell, if Sehun wants to play this game, Jongin certainly won’t be the one to say no. “You’ve been so mouthy, and rude. If I give it to you,” Jongin pauses to grip the base of his cock with one hand, “I don’t think I can give it to you nicely.”  
  
Sehun lets out this little whine, and with the hand still grasping Sehun’s hair, Jongin pulls him closer. With his other hand, Jongin taps the head of his dick lightly against Sehun’s cheek.  
  
“Are we going to start anytime soon?” Sehun narrows his eyes, speaking testily.  
  
“You can wait,” Jongin says without thinking, recklessly. “You can wait until I give it to you.”  
  
Sehun makes a guttural sound, like he didn’t mean to let the noise out of his throat, but Jongin hears it and he slaps his dick against Sehun’s cheek once more. “Open up.”  
  
As soon as Sehun parts his pretty lips, Jongin angles his cock and thrusts forward, slipping into that wet, tight heat and it’s fucking amazing; Sehun moans and leans forward, so, “Greedy, aren’t you?” Jongin says, putting both hands on Sehun’s head, urging him forward, “God, you couldn’t wait for me to shut you up, you -- ”  
  
Sehun balances his hands on Jongin’s thighs, pulls off long enough to look up and say, “Are you going to give it to me, Jongin?”  
  
Jongin doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s Sehun calling him by his real name -- too many times has he gone to EXO and his one-night stands call him Kai -- or maybe it’s this mounting frustration that started from yesterday, when Sehun first starting speaking to him in that tone; whatever it is, something in Jongin snaps and he yanks on Sehun’s hair while thrusting forward, his hips snapping of their own accord, fucking into Sehun’s mouth. “You take whatever I give to you,” Jongin hisses, “You’ve been asking for it this whole night, talking back to me and mouthing off -- ”  
  
One particularly strong thrust leads to Jongin’s dick slipping in a little too deep; Sehun makes a choked noise and Jongin immediately tries to pull back. But Sehun just whines and pushes forward; makes that same goddamn noise again, the sound going straight to Jongin’s dick, like he likes being fucked, like he likes choking on Jongin’s cock, God, does he -- “Do you like that?” Jongin pants, “Huh? When I fuck you with my cock? When you can’t say anything?”  
  
And when Sehun gargles, refuses to pull back, Jongin is fucking gone: he ruts forward messily, shoving his dick further down Sehun’s throat, that perfect, perfect tight heat; so much that he doesn’t even bother thrust anymore, just uses both hands to keep Sehun down, Sehun’s nose bumping into the thatch of hair at the base of Jongin’s cock, rocks small and tight, back and forth, desperate, animalistic --  
  
Jongin comes with a grunt, right down Sehun’s throat. He comes so hard he literally whites out for a few seconds. When he comes back to himself, Sehun’s standing up.  
  
Jongin grabs him by the belt loops and pulls Sehun in. Distantly, he thinks that this is their first kiss.  
  
Their kiss tastes like salt and sweat and come but Sehun leans into it, his body folding in, fitting Jongin’s seamlessly.  
  
“Was that -- was that okay?” Jongin asks.  
  
Sehun hums, noses at Jongin’s neck, not unlike a cat. Jongin wraps his arms around Sehun’s impossibly tiny waist, tugging him close.  
  
“Good,” Sehun says, voice throaty. “Didn’t fuck me though.”  
  
That was undeniably intense, and Jongin’s a little concerned he’d lost control so easily -- that he couldn’t stop himself, didn’t stop himself.  
  
“Yah,” Sehun whacks Jongin’s shoulder, “Did you hear me?”  
  
“You’re so needy,” Jongin murmurs, and unashamedly grabs two handfuls of Sehun’s beautiful ass. “I guess you’ll have to stay for more.”  
  
“Where’s your bedroom?”  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
“You won’t let me hurt you,” Jongin says. It’s not quite a question.  
  
“I -- what?” Sehun pulls away from where he’d been sucking on a particularly enticing patch of skin on Jongin’s neck. He blinks.  
  
They're on Jongin’s very nice bed, which is outfitted with a very high thread count set of sheets: Jongin’s spread out like a fucking underwear model, wearing only such, and Sehun’s leaning on his side next to him, familiarizing himself with Jongin’s very nice neck. The penthouse’s big, glass windows let in the nice city lights; Sehun’s buzz from the alcohol fades the light to soft, muted colors. He can taste alcohol and sex and Jongin. It’s all very nice.  
  
“It’s just -- your lips,” Jongin’s expression is open, innocent, “Your mouth, it’s like -- ” He touches Sehun’s chin distractedly. “God, it’s like you were made to -- you were made for me.”  
  
“Did you get that out of a porno?”  
  
Jongin flushes; and it’s nice to see that Sehun can do that, that his sarcastic, annoying humor can rattle Jongin, this businessman who drives a Mustang and goes to high-end clubs like EXO every night, who probably hires escorts every other week.  
  
“I just mean you have to tell me when I'm being too… rough.”  
  
Sehun means it when he says, “I can handle whatever you’re capable of.”  
  
Jongin growls and rolls them both over onto the bed.  
  
Then they’re kissing again, and you fucking guessed it, it’s fantastic: the planes of Jongin’s body are solid and warm, pressing Sehun into the wonderfully soft mattress; Jongin’s body is this sinuous wave, his hips rolling fluidly. They haven’t even gotten to the actual fucking, but Sehun thinks that this alone is worth entertaining Minseok and Luhan for the second night in a row. (Luhan had ordered this entire tray of shots, most of which Sehun couldn’t even recognize: cups of alcohol with frothy cream on top, bright blue or green, with girly names like Gumdrop or Gummy Bear or something like that.)  
  
Maybe it’s the clever flick of Jongin’s tongue, or the way Jongin’s fingers rub circular motions onto Sehun’s hipbone, or the smell of sex already cloying the air -- regardless, they’re still wearing their boxers and no one’s brought out lube or condoms, but it already feels like they’re already having sex, what with the way Sehun’s gut is building with a slow anticipation, like the stoking of a fire. Since they’ve both came already, everything feels deliberate, unrushed. Sehun moans into the kiss.  
  
An iPhone ringtone interrupts them.  
  
Jongin jolts in surprise; his teeth clack against Sehun’s and their noses bump, hard enough to hurt, in an unromantic way.  
  
“Shit,” Jongin swears, pulling back as the phone continues to ring from somewhere behind the bedroom.  
  
“I think that’s you,” Sehun grimaces.  
  
“Ignore it,” Jongin mutters, and leans back in to continue.  
  
They do, but then it rings again, and the ringtone reminds Sehun of alarms and work. Very not sexy.  
  
Jongin growls in annoyance. “Don’t move,” he commands, “I’ll be right back.”  
  
Sehun admires the very nice view when Jongin pads into the kitchen for a few moments, then follows, only slightly unsteady.  
  
“Why are you calling me this late? No, _no_ , I told you -- ”  
  
Work-related talk floats into the kitchen as Jongin scowls at whoever he’s talking to; Sehun takes this opportunity to look around the kitchen. As Jongin’s talking on his iPhone, Sehun discovers that Jongin’s high-class businessman tastes thankfully don’t extend to everything, because there are a few packets of Jin ramen in a cupboard.  
  
Sehun’s never grown out of instant ramen, despite eating it often enough (read: every other day) at university; so he grabs a packet. Jongin looks over and his lip twitches. But he doesn’t say anything, so Sehun rummages through the refrigerator -- its contents are scarce, full of only boring staples: milk, Yakult, three cartons of eggs (protein, much?), sausage, mushroom, kimchi, cheese, some other vegetables and plenty of beer. Sehun’s hungry.  
  
By the time boiling water has finished softening the noodles, Sehun’s boiled an egg and cut some sausage for his ramen. The egg, the sausage, kimchi, and a slice of cheese for good measure all go into the salty broth. Sehun’s proud of himself. Not to be boastful or anything, but it looks pretty damn delicious.  
  
The salt and spice, the familiar flavor of the soup bring Sehun immediately back to those late nights, cramming for finals and finishing last minute essays. But the extra protein and kimchi are delicious. He digs in happily.  
  
“I’m busy, okay, I’ll call you back. Yes, I’ll be in tomorrow. Yes, okay. Bye.”  
  
Jongin puts his iPhone back on the counter, but not before switching it to silent.  
  
“Work?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin’s mouth forms a flat line. Then he smirks. “Back to bed?”  
  
Sehun frowns. “In a second.”  
  
Jongin takes a seat next to Sehun at the countertop as Sehun slurps his noodles.  
  
“Are you really saying you’d rather be eating ramen than letting me fuck you? I’m hurt.”  
  
“Who knows whether or not you’ll be good in bed? I need something to sustain me.”  
  
“You’re so talkative.”  
  
Sehun finishes the last of his noodles and drains his glass of water. Jongin takes him by the hand and leads him to the bedroom again.  
  
They end up kissing again -- slower this time, and with Sehun on top, his waist in between Jongin’s legs.  
  
When Sehun opens his eyes, Jongin’s staring at him.  
  
“What,” Sehun pulls away.  
  
Jongin’s expression is unreadable. “You.”  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes and gets off Jongin, flops back onto the bed beside him.  
  
Now it’s Jongin’s turn to say, “What.”  
  
“It’s hot.” It is hot; the ramen was warm and Sehun’s starting to sweat.  
  
“Take off your clothes.”  
  
“Smooth,” but Sehun slips off his boxers anyway, tosses them in the same direction that he’d thrown the rest of his clothes: onto the floor beside the bed.  
  
“I know I am,” Jongin says smugly; he props himself up on an elbow to look down at Sehun. Sehun looks over the way this new position accentuates Jongin’s biceps.  
  
“Practice a lot?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Sehun looks at him disbelievingly. Someone with looks like Jongin? Tanned skin, perfect muscles, oozing confidence -- the guy practically reeks hot businessman, probably prowling clubs left and right.  
  
“Not anymore,” Jongin amends.  
  
Sehun readjusts his position on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “Why?”  
  
“Busy,” Jongin says softly.  
  
Sehun’s eyes feel heavy. He lets them slide shut.  
  
The sheets whisper as they slip against each other and the mattress dips when Jongin leans over and kisses Sehun.  
  
“Do you?” Jongin murmurs when they pause for breath.  
  
“Do I what?” Sehun repeats distractedly.  
  
“Practice a lot.”  
  
“Not really,” he replies, though he doesn’t offer an explanation.    
  
“You taste like ramen.”  
  
“You like it?”  
  
Jongin hums and leans in once more.  
  
Sehun expects to be kissed but Jongin just touches Sehun’s cheek. He drags a finger to brush against the corner of Sehun’s mouth, like he wants to memorize where lip turns to skin.  
  
A chuckle forces its way out of Sehun’s mouth.  
  
“Want to share?” Jongin smiles against Sehun’s neck, his lips curling against skin.  
  
As he runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, Sehun pulls the other man closer. “It’s just -- for someone so reverent now, it’s hard to believe you were the same person fucking my mouth an hour ago.”  
  
Jongin nips playfully. “I can’t be both?”  
  
Sehun lets his eyes slide shut when Jongin sucks on an earlobe.  
  
The bed beneath Sehun is impossibly comfortable, and the sounds of traffic drift up from the city streets below. His stomach is comfortably full, and the thrum of desire that was pulsing through his veins has simmered down to white noise. The lights are off, and everything feels warm and dreamlike. Idly, Sehun hopes that he’ll be able to keep this moment, wonders if he’ll ever be able to step foot in a penthouse again without thinking of this night.  
  
He’s brought back to the moment when Jongin lies back on the bed, curling his body around Sehun’s. One hand finds Sehun’s hipbone, thumbing at the jut of bone there, brushing back and forth and back and forth over the thin skin.  
  
“Are you tired?” Jongin asks quietly.  
  
“No,” Sehun lies.  
  
“If you want to sleep, you can.”  
  
Sehun opens his eyes at that. “Are you intimidated? Finally realized your skills in bed aren’t as great as you advertise?”  
  
Jongin snorts. “I’ll fuck you in the morning.”  
  
“Is that a promise?”  
  
Jongin sidles close and whispers directly into Sehun’s ear, “It’s a warning.”  
  
Sehun laughs, closes his eyes again. Jongin’s hand wanders up to brush at Sehun’s ribs; he touches Sehun’s skin like it is unexplored terrain and Jongin is a searching paleontologist, tracing the outline of each bone like it’s a fossil, something fragile to preserve for the years to come.  
  
Sehun murmurs, “God, you better fuck like a dream.”  
  
Jongin laughs, a low rumbling in his chest. Sehun wants to listen to that sound forever. “I’m serious,” Sehun protests sleepily, “You walk around like you have a big dick -- ”  
  
“Which I do,” Jongin interjects.  
  
“Alright, which you do,” Sehun concedes; and it is a very, very nice dick, “But you talk and flirt like you get paid big money in bed, that’s how good you make yourself out to be. So it’ll be very disappointing if you’re not.”  
  
“Wait and see,” Jongin chuckles. He resumes roaming his hands over Sehun’s body. Sehun doesn’t remember when he falls asleep.  
  
  
  
When he wakes up the next morning, his lips are swollen and the bed is empty.  
  
Beside Sehun are only empty sheets. It’s a gloomy day outside; the sunlight that shines through the glass windows -- which, by the way, are exactly like those penthouse windows you see in magazines, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, offering an expensive-looking view of the cityscape beyond -- is grayish white. This sunlight fills the bedroom, reflecting off the white sheets, white floor and walls. Sehun winces at how bright everything is. The bedroom feels enormous.  
  
As much as he’d love to relish the high-quality bed-sheets he knows that he will never buy for himself, Sehun leaves the bed in search of his missing bedmate. His head pounds in his skull; there’s a dull throbbing but Sehun manages to make his way into the kitchen.  
  
Jongin stands at the marble countertop, iPhone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder as he uses both hands to tap away at a laptop. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and gray slacks that seem to be pushing the line between workspace-appropriate and skin-tight, though Sehun’s not complaining at all, because it makes Jongin’s legs look unbelievably long and accentuates his ass.  
  
“ -- don’t think so. I’ll check when I come into the office today.” Jongin glances up and says into the phone, “Look, I have to go -- no, really, I don’t -- yeah, I’ll see you soon.” He grimaces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, but I have to -- ” he gestures towards the laptop.  
  
“Work, yeah,” Sehun rasps, and then winces a bit at how, there’s no other word for it, thoroughly _fucked_ his voice sounds: dry and throaty and raw from last night.  
  
A proud smirk flits over Jongin’s lips and Sehun ignores it, padding into the kitchen.  
  
“I have to leave soon,” Jongin’s smirk fades, “As in, like, now.” He rubs the back of his neck.  
  
“No, I get it,” Sehun says, and in all honesty, his hangover isn’t putting him in the mood at the moment. But to be sure -- “No time for a quick one, huh?”  
  
“Rain check?”  
  
Sehun blinks. Slowly, he starts, “I don’t -- ”  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin says, flushing, “I didn’t want to impose -- or push, I just -- ”  
  
“You,” Sehun begins slowly, and hey, leave him alone -- his head’s pounding from a massive hangover, shit, and he’s trying to figure out why someone like Jongin would, “want to see me again?”  
  
“I -- yeah, I mean… ” Jongin blurts out, “But that’s okay, if you were just looking for something without -- ”  
  
Sehun interrupts. “Do you want my number or Kakaotalk?”  
  
Jongin’s returning smile is beautiful and blinding. Definitely worth the hangover.  
  
They exchange numbers quickly and Jongin kisses him -- wet and very thoroughly, thank you very much -- once before saying something about a meeting and new secretary, Sehun doesn’t really care; Jongin packs away his laptop and is halfway out the door before he grabs Sehun’s by the nape of his neck, and pulls him in for another filthy kiss.  
  
Though Sehun’s sure his breath must not taste the best, Jongin doesn’t seem to care; he pushes his tongue into Sehun’s mouth until Sehun feels his knees turn weak.  
  
For someone who kisses like that, Jongin’s small frown is childlike when he says, “I would drive you back but -- ” so Sehun goes, “Go, go,” literally pushing Jongin out of his own penthouse.  
  
“I feel bad,” Jongin whines as Sehun stands by the front door.  
  
“I told you it’s fine, and you’re going to be late,” Sehun points out.  
  
“At least take a fresh pair of my clothes,” Jongin insists. Sehun starts with a token protest but then realizes yes, he’d love to.  
  
“I’ll see you next time,” Sehun says.  
  
“I’ll be the best lay you ever have,” Jongin promises and Sehun rolls his eyes, what a cocky little shit, and closes the door, shaking his head fondly. He makes himself another package of Jin ramen, enjoys the penthouse view, and puts on a soft looking red sweater (that smells like Jongin) and a pair of jeans before taking the bus back home.  
  
Despite not getting a second round with Jongin, Sehun feels pretty upbeat for someone with a not insignificant hangover. The bus ride home is uneventful; he comes home and chugs three bottles of water before sleeping for another two hours.  
  
The rest of the day is moderately enjoyable -- that is, as much as a Sunday before a new job can be: the doorbell wakes him, and Sehun blearily stumbles out of bed to face a cheery Luhan, who looks unfairly put together even after a night of drinking. Of course, Luhan drags him out to try this new ice cream shop where they sell ice cream in the shape of roses stuffed into puffy waffles. Minseok’s flight left earlier that morning, so Sehun alone has to suffer through his friend’s antics. Luhan takes literally ten minutes trying to find the most aesthetic angle.  
  
“You know I could make these for you at home?”  
  
Luhan glares at Sehun. “Can you make waffles like these from scratch?”  
  
“Probably,” Sehun says, and he probably actually could. He’s not too shabby at pastries.  
  
“But these are so cuuuuute, and if we just made them at home, I wouldn’t be able to get the cute background -- ”  
  
“Okay, okay, okay!”  
  
Also, Luhan pesters Sehun into giving all the details about Jongin: sexier with clothes off, rich, skilled at blowjobs, but insufficient data for the actual fucking.  
  
“God, how lucky,” Luhan sighs, licking the last of his ice cream. “Hot businessman, hot car, penthouse, big dick. And he sounds nice too.” Luhan sighs again, mournfully. What a drama queen. “Wonder if he’s into threesomes.”  
  
Sehun flicks him.  
  
“And you have his _number_!”  
  
“I told you, we talked a lot.” Sehun thinks for a moment. “Actually, I think we spent more time talking than we did having sex.” Sehun muses, “Yeah, definitely, I made him come real fast.”  
  
Luhan positively cackles. Sehun smirks.  
  
They part ways amicably, with vague plans to visit a new sushi place next weekend. Sehun goes home, irons clothes for tomorrow, plans to text Jongin after work later in the week, and falls asleep in Jongin’s sweater.  
  
  
  
The next day, Sehun wakes to the sound of his alarm. He groans and checks the clock: 6:30. Enough time to shower, dress, and take the bus to work, but only just.  
  
Sehun does so, and even has enough time to buy a wrapped triangle kimbap from a convenience store before getting onto the bus.  
  
_good luck on ur first day :)_ is the first text that Sehun sees from Luhan when he pulls out his phone to check his messages. Sehun sends him the emoji with steam coming out of its nose, then plugs in his headphones and waits to arrive.  
  
It doesn’t really feel real -- Sehun’s been interviewing for this job for a while; it’d taken a long time to finalize everything -- until Sehun pushes open the glass doors. Baekhyun’s already standing in the lobby, wearing similar clothes to Sehun: dark slacks, dress shoes, and a clean dress shirt.  
  
“Oh, good, you’re early!” Baekhyun says. “I get to show you around today.”  
  
The selection process for this job has also introduced Sehun to Baekhyun, who he has gotten to know moderately well and definitely likes; Baekhyun’s been easy-going and understanding in the last four months they’ve been working with each other, trying to see if Sehun would be a good fit for Mr. Kim. Four months is a long time to be interviewed and tested for a job, but Sehun had been assured from multiple parties that the pay would be no doubtedly worth whatever hassles it would take to get the position.  
  
Baekhyun tours him around the facility for about an hour before they get in an elevator and head toward the top floor, where Sehun will be working.  
  
“So, I know we’ve gone over this before,” Baekhyun’s quirked lip is the only indicator that he knows that Sehun knows what he’ll say, “But as per company policy, I’m to tell you about your responsibilities on your first day on the job!”  
  
“Thank you,” Sehun says dryly and Baekhyun shoulders him as they exit the elevator.  
  
They’re met with a bustling floor of employees.  
  
“You’ll be helping Mr. Kim. Officially, on paper your job position is assistant, but you could probably tell from the battery of tests,” again Baekhyun’s lip twists in a wry smile, “that you’ll be responsible for assisting with financial decisions, scheduling, deadlines, writing papers, anything Mr. Kim would need.”  
  
As they navigate their way across the floor, Sehun nods, “Right.”  
  
“We would’ve liked to have had you actually meet with him before hiring, but he was away for a while on business trips. He just came back to town last week. He’s very,” Baekhyun hesitates here, “Particular. He didn’t want an assistant. Fired his last one.”  
  
“Yes,” Sehun remembers, “I spoke with his father a few weeks ago.”  
  
“Ah, right. Remember what he said. Mr. Kim can be very stubborn, so it’s your job to make stay firm. That’s why we hired you. And oh, this is yours.”  
  
They stop at a nice cubicle, spacious, and outfitted with a sleek, new desk. Sehun runs his hand over it.  
  
“Ready to see Mr. Kim?”  
  
In retrospect, Sehun really should have seen this coming.  
  
He knew that Baekhyun had mentioned EXO to him a few weeks back, when they’d been conducting a casual interview over coffee; he also knows that Kim Jongin is the young son of _the_ Mr. Kim, wildly successful CEO. What kind of twenty-something lives in a _penthouse_?  
  
“Mr. Kim, this is Oh Sehun, he’s going -- ”  
  
The rest of whatever Baekhyun says is rendered inaudible when Sehun sees Jongin standing behind the enormous desk.  
  
Sehun’s stomach flips in shock and he feels a strange buzzing at the back of his head. He looks even better when I’m sober, Sehun thinks hysterically. His second thought is that it’ll take too much time to find another job, time that should be spent saving up, helping his parents.  
  
Jongin’s eyes widen in shock, his face going slack. Then he turns away, toward Baekhyun. “Who is this?”  
  
Before, Jongin was easy-going, and endearingly earnest; but this is Kim, heir of his father’s enormous company and Sehun’s new boss.  
  
“Your father hired him for you since you fired your last assistant, sir,” Baekhyun says, longsufferingly. “Four months ago? I’m sure you remember.”  
  
This Kim Jongin is completely different; he is efficient and focused, his voice steady as he ignores Sehun and instead speaks to Baekhyun only. “Because she was incompetent.” Jongin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need an assistant.”  
  
“Sir -- ”  
  
“I’m in the middle of something right now. Brief him, and we’ll discuss this later.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Baekhyun sighs, and gestures for Sehun to follow as they leave the office.  
  
“He gets like that,” Baekhyun says apologetically, “And unfortunately you’re coming in at a bad time. He’s got this big deadline for a project coming up, and as department head, he’s in charge. It’s a lot of pressure, but he’s a good man… ”  
  
Sehun feels -- _unmoored_.  
  
Realistically, he knows that things will most likely be fine -- in fact, Jongin had essentially dismissed him in their meeting, aside from a few seconds of recognition. He just needs to get over his unfortunate attraction (and desire to see whether or not Jongin actually fucks as well as he promises) and get to work. He’s going to be the best damn assistant he can be.  
  
That reasoning still doesn’t ease the strange, prickling sensation churning in his stomach, but Sehun pushes his worry aside as best he can; he settles into his office relatively well, and goes out to lunch with Baekhyun and a few other coworkers to enjoy grilled pork belly barbecue.  
  
Inwardly, he’s rattled -- what are the chances of meeting Jongin again, like this? -- but the day passes by quickly. Sehun’s in his cubicle, uploading the last of some files and syncing accounts when Baekhyun pops his head in. “Mr. Kim would like to see you Sehun.” Baekhyun checks his watch. “And we’re about to wrap up the day anyway, so you can head out when you’re finished with him.”  
  
His chest feels like lead. “Thanks, Baekhyun,” Sehun says and begins the long walk to Jongin’s office.  
  
The door’s open, so Sehun only knocks on the doorframe before walking inside.  
  
“Sehun,” Jongin looks up. “Could you close the door please?”  
  
Up close, Jongin looks tired. “Will this be a problem?” he asks stiffly. Surprised, Sehun blinks. He hadn’t thought that Jongin would bring up Saturday night, based on how curtly he was treated this morning. “I can ask to move you -- ”  
  
“No,” Sehun cuts in, a little too quickly, “I mean, no thank you. It took me long enough to get this job and I need the money.” Sehun clears his throat. “It won’t be a problem.”  
  
“Good,” Jongin says, although he doesn’t seem entirely satisfied. “Normally,” he hesitates, before continuing, “Normally, I’d asked to get you switched, but.” Jongin scrubs his hand over his face.  
  
Sehun swallows dryly. His mouth feels like sawdust; he’s about to speak when Jongin asks quietly: “Are you -- are you alright?”  
  
“I -- what?”  
  
“Did you get home okay? I’m sorry -- I… left in a rush yesterday.” Jongin _does_ sound sorry; he almost sounds like the Jongin that Sehun met two nights ago.  
  
“Ah -- yes, it was fine,” Sehun says, stilted everything feels surreal; it’s like the world is spinning and Sehun’s trying to fumble his way upright. First, Jongin ignored him; now, he’s sounding like he genuinely cares.  
  
“It’s just,” Jongin blurts out, “You had a lot to drink and I didn’t even think -- ”  
  
“No,” Sehun flushes, “It was -- no, it was fine, I -- ”  
  
“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” Jongin says again, his eyes focused somewhere on Sehun’s chin, “I don’t want you to be in this -- position, but -- ”  
  
“Mr. Kim?” a young woman raps on the door, a clipboard in hand, “Junmyeon would like to see you. He says it’s about the presentation next week?”  
  
“Thank you,” Jongin says, and when Sehun looks away from her, Jongin’s looking right at him. “I look forward to working with you, Sehun,” Jongin says politely.  
  
“Likewise,” Sehun says, and then Jongin’s gone.  
  
  
  
The remainder of the day passes in a blur. Sehun’s on a bus, then standing in his home, in the kitchen before he realizes it. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls out an old recipe for sweet potato tart. Sehun’s halfway through baking the crust and finishing up the vanilla sponge when his phone pings with a text from Luhan.  
  
_like my latest Instgram post pls_  
  
Sehun only hesitates for a minute before replying.  
  
_so remember the hot guy one night stand / potential boyf from EXO?_  
  
Luhan’s response comes less than a minute later. _did you text him???_  
  
_he’s my new boss_ _  
__  
_ Luhan replies in less than fifteen seconds: _im comin over in 10_ _  
__  
_ “Are you stress baking?” Luhan calls out as soon as he walks in. “I mean, I know this is a terrible thing and all, but you know I love it when you stress bake.”  
  
“Hi,” Sehun says from where he’s situated himself in the kitchen. “Can you heat up the soy cream? It’s just there, on the stove.”  
  
“So,” Luhan continues, “Potential kinky office sex aside, how do you feel?”  
  
“I don’t think we’re going to be having kinky office sex,” Sehun grimaces. He grabs the steamed sweet potatoes and runs them through a food processor. “He’s the CEO’s son.”  
  
“He’s _that_ Kim Jongin?” Luhan obediently puts the warm soy cream onto the sponge.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says. He mixes in cinnamon, maple syrup, and coconut milk; slathers on the sweet potato paste a little too forcefully.  
  
“Well,” Luhan says, “How do you feel?”  
  
“Weird. Like it’ll be fine, I mean we’re adults.”  
  
Luhan stares at Sehun in that weird, intense way of his.  
  
“I guess -- I mean, I liked him.” Sehun says awkwardly. He turns away self-consciously and begins to cut the tart. Even around his best friend, it’s still uncomfortable for Sehun to be so -- conspicuous with his emotions.  
  
Luhan’s gaze turns sympathetic and Sehun pretends not to see. But the potato tart turns out to be pretty good: the sweet sponge is soft and moist, and goes well with the crisp crust and sweet potato paste.  
  
Anyway, they finish off most of the tart and order delivery food: black bean noodles and crispy chicken and fried mandu dumplings.  
  
Luhan eats more of the pickled radish than he should, stuffing the crunchy white squares into his mouth while chattering on about a new recipe he saw on Instagram. But Sehun steals a few of Luhan’s dumplings in revenge and thankfully, they don’t talk about Jongin for the rest of the night.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
Jongin is fucked.  
  
Royally fucked.  
  
Like Royally Fucked, with the capitals and everything.  
  
Oh Sehun walks into Jongin’s office on a Monday morning two days after the most memorable one-night stand Jongin’s ever had, and leaves with all of Jongin’s self-confidence hanging off that tiny frown. Or something like that.  
  
Oh Sehun walks into Jongin’s office on a Monday morning and when he leaves, Jongin can’t concentrate. He has paperwork to fill out, phone-calls to return, emails to write, interviews to prepare for, but he can’t _concentrate_ because he’s thinking about the color of Sehun’s mouth, the way his lips look --  
  
“Dammit,” Jongin hisses to himself. The word echoes in the empty office.  
  
Jongin picks up the phone and punches in a number. It rings twice before Heechul picks up.  
  
“Jongin?”  
  
“Get me a new secretary,” Jongin grits out, very civilly.  
  
There’s a short pause. “Technically,” Heechul begins slowly, “He’s your assistant.”  
  
“I don’t care what he is. I don’t want him.”  
  
“It’s not even been a day. Actually, his shift just started an hour ago. How can you hate the kid already?”  
  
“I don’t hate him,” Jongin says automatically, “I just -- can you please get me someone else?”  
  
“You know how hard me and Baekhyun worked to get you a new assistant, Jongin? Do you know how terrible you are at keeping assistants? This one took _four months_ to hire, Jongin, I’m not going to let you fire him after one day. Besides, we thought that you would like him.”  
  
That’s the problem, Jongin thinks to himself, but he hangs up regardless.  
  
He’d been curt, almost rude, just now, barely acknowledging Sehun before demanding to know why he was there from Baekhyun. Jongin winces. In retrospect, he could’ve handled that much better. _Should have_ handled that much better; normally Jongin tries his best to be courteous to new employees. But Sehun --  
  
Having Sehun in the office is an accident waiting to happen. Jongin had spent enough time yesterday checking his messages, waiting for Sehun to text like a pining teenager. Having Sehun as his assistant? Disastrous. A lawsuit waiting to be filed, a scandal waiting to be blasted. Jongin can already see the headlines.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
“I can’t think about this right now,” Jongin mutters to himself. For the next few hours, he throws himself into his work, feverishly going through everything that needs to be done in preparation for his upcoming trips and deadlines.  
  
It isn’t until Baekhyun knocks on his office door that Jongin realizes it’s almost lunch time.  
  
“Come out for lunch with us, Jongin?” Baekhyun sticks his head in. “We’re treating Sehun on his first day, it’d be good for you to come.”  
  
“Can’t,” Jongin lies easily, and he does feel bad, but he needs to sort out his tumultuous thoughts before seeing Sehun again. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on. Send my regards.”  
  
Baekhyun mutters something unflattering under his breath and Jongin, like the good friend and employer he is, pretends he cannot hear.  
  
Here’s the thing: Jongin doesn’t date people.  
  
He hasn’t, by definition, dated someone since Soojung -- and that was in _high school_. He doesn’t have time for stuff like this; this is also probably why there’s a company fraternization policy in place (one that specifically calls out the prohibition of manager and employee). He does, however, have one-night stands, but those are literally only one-night, if not shorter. He doesn’t know how to deal with this.  
  
The rest of the workday passes by before Jongin decides to apologize.  
  
It’s like he’s stumbling around in the dark, blurting out his words and stuttering and generally making himself look like an idiot. Sehun, fuck him, has a perfect poker face, reveals next to nothing with that deadpan expression of his. Anyway, Jongin shoulders through the apology -- he’s just another employee, stay focused, be serious, be polite --  and tries not to imagine how Sehun’s eyebrows scrunch up when he comes.  
  
_Stay focused._  
  
He puts up the excuse of personal work -- and hey, he did spend almost five months working from trip to trip, living out of his suitcase, so he _does_ have a lot of work to make up -- to avoid Sehun. But then Baekhyun’s rapping on his door the next morning, rattling on about schedules to work on and meetings to arrange, so why don’t you stop and ask Sehun to help out, Mr. Kim? And then at one point, even Heechul pokes his head in and tells Jongin to get his head out of his ass. Jongin makes a half-hearted warning about firing the both of them but they just jerk their head in the direction of Sehun’s desk down the hall.  
  
With exactly two hours until lunch, Sehun steps into Jongin’s office. “You wanted to see me?”  
  
They go over how Jongin’s schedule typically looks; Sehun starts filling out a calendar and Jongin hands over a not insignificant pile of business cards. Jongin’s immensely grateful that his voice stays steady and, for the most part, emotionless through the whole thing. Sehun’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch.  
  
Two weeks pass by like that. Sehun never calls him sir, and Jongin doesn’t really care, doesn’t call him out for it. He’ll stop by Jongin’s office at least twice a day, but only to drop off files or ask about scheduling. He’s quick to point out Jongin’s mistakes, but for the most part he’s quiet. They don’t make eye-contact.  
  
It’s not -- _terrible_. Jongin can live with it. He’s dealt with worse.  
  
It’s just --  
  
Sehun shows up in Jongin’s office looking like he just sat down at a high-stakes poker game with no cards and someone told him to bluff a royal flush -- that is to say, his expression pretty much un-fucking-readable. But, from Baekhyun’s updates and overheard conversations, Jongin can see that Sehun’s usually dry, a little sarcastic. When he has a strong opinion about something, he won’t be afraid to speak up. Everyone seems to like him.  
  
The most memorable interaction they have is one week in, during a lull in the workday. Lunch has just finished; everyone’s mostly working, but the entire office feels drowsy.  
  
To wake himself up, Jongin goes to the break room, which is empty. There’s a disgusting protein shake and egg scramble that Jongin made hastily that morning. He’s leaning against the counter next to the coffee, picking the ham and bell peppers out of his egg and eating those first, when Sehun walks in. Jongin’s heart skips a beat.  
  
A slight pause in his step when he walks into the break room is the only outward sign of Sehun’s shock. He heads straight for the coffee machine.  
  
Jongin’s trying to figure out if it’d be weird to say hello -- and no, it wouldn’t, right? Because Jongin would be halfway through a conversation about coffee or lunch with any other employee right now. But Sehun’s not _really_ an employee, is he? He is, but not like… that, because --  
  
Jongin’s saved from having to make a decision when Sehun looks from the whey protein sitting in an innocent plastic container to the egg scramble to Jongin’s eyes. Sehun snorts.  
  
“What?” Jongin says defensively, and there’s -- there’s no one else in the room, so Jongin doesn’t try and stop the reflexive smile that spreads across his face when Sehun rolls his eyes.  
  
This is just banter, right? It’s fine?  
  
“You’re obsessed with protein,” Sehun says dryly, flipping a switch on the coffee machine. He dumps three packets of sugar and two of those plastic single-serve creamer containers into his coffee. The smell of hazelnut fills the break room. He sounds like the Sehun who’d rolled his eyes at Jongin’s Mustang and fell asleep in Jongin’s bed.  
  
“I’m not obsessed. It’s just good.”  
  
Sehun raises an eyebrow and Jongin refuses to flush. “You’re telling me that you’d willingly drink that protein shake?”  
  
Jongin’s traitorous, traitorous mouth blurts out, “It’s good _for_ you. I work out. Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean other people can’t drink protein.”  
  
It’s not fine. It’s doing 85, pushing 90 on a freeway and slamming on the breaks to look at a three-vehicle accident on the median when an ambulance and two police cars have already parked to inspect the damage -- Jongin’s willpower dissolves when Sehun throws his head back and laughs sharply, revealing the perfectly kissable, biteable line of his jaw.  
  
“You don’t think I work out?” Sehun’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. Now Jongin’s thinking about Sehun with his skin glistening with sweat, and yeah, Jongin’s Royally Fucked.  
  
Jongin’s brain wants to reply with something most likely not workplace appropriate, but he’s saved from a potential sexual harassment lawsuit when the door swings open and Kyungsoo walks in with a loud, “Thank God, coffee.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks between them with that weird way of his before grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee as well. Jongin’s finished making small talk about Kyungsoo’s new dog before he looks back at Sehun again.  
  
Any lingering humor is gone, and Sehun’s schooled his expression back to neutral again. Jongin’s half-listening to Kyungsoo when Sehun finishes his coffee and glances at Jongin, and nods his head distantly, leaving without so much as a goodbye.  
  
Anyway, two weeks pass by mostly uneventfully.  
  
At the end of Sehun’s second week, Junmyeon stops by Jongin’s office.  
  
“So you talked to Mr. Sun?” Junmyeon says, arranging himself in Jongin’s chair.  
  
Jongin’s typing out a long-winded email. “Who?” he says, absently, still looking at his computer screen.  
  
“He said you’d see him in Bangkok. He said that you two had business to attend to. Sound familiar?”  
  
Jongin frowns. “Tell him I’m busy.”  
  
“He’s very insistent. Also, your father says he’d like you to go and negotiate a deal with one of Mr. Sun’s coworkers.”  
  
“Fine,” Jongin says dismissively.  
  
“You’ll take Sehun, right?”  
  
That causes Jongin to look up. Junmyeon’s flipping through a folder. “What?”  
  
“Your assistant? Oh Sehun? Surely you know his name by now.”  
  
“I know his name,” Jongin says irritably, “Why would I take him?”  
  
“Calm down, Jongin,” Junmyeon says in that over-placating tone of his, “He’s your assistant, why wouldn’t you take him? Besides, your meeting notes are always terrible.”  
  
“I’ve been fine in the past.”  
  
“And now, we pay someone to take notes for you. Come on, Jongin, it isn’t that difficult. You’re the one who’s always going on about making changes to the company. How can we do that if you won’t be willing to change yourself?”  
  
Jongin shoots Junmyeon a withering look but Jongin knows that he’s right. “Fine.”  
  
“Excellent!” Junmyeon slaps the folder onto Jongin’s desk. “Mr. Sun’s arranged for all of your accommodations.” Junmyeon moves to leave but then turns around to add, “Oh, and stop pouting. You know that half of your deals are only because of your pretty face. Give the people something nice to look at.”  
  
Jongin decides not to point out that he is perfectly civil with clients, and pointedly ignores him.  
  
After finishing his email, Jongin heads out to hand over the folder.  
  
Sehun’s inputting dates into Jongin’s calendar when Jongin stops by his cubicle. Though he can’t see, Jongin knows that Kyungsoo and his very particular, no noise, work habits are just across from Sehun, so Jongin leans in a bit to speak quietly.  
  
“Business trip, next Saturday,” Jongin says, putting the folder onto Sehun’s desk. “Pack light.”  
  
A muffled _ahem_ floats in from in front of them as Kyungsoo clears his throat in annoyance. Sehun glares at the thin wall separating his desk and Kyungsoo’s. Jongin rolls his eyes but leans in closer.  
  
“I’m coming?” Sehun says lowly.  
  
Jongin makes the mistake of looking down at Sehun just as Sehun turns his head to look up. They are very close. Sehun’s looking at Jongin through his eyelashes and Jongin feels his cock twitch.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m coming with you,” Sehun clarifies, face slightly pink, and Jongin feels an identical flush rising on his cheekbones.  
  
Belatedly, Jongin says, “Yeah.”    
  
Sehun murmurs something else.  
  
“What?” Jongin says again, dumbly.  
  
“You want me to rearrange your appointments for that day?”  
  
“If you can. I can pick you up and drive you to the airport that morning.”  
  
“Why can’t I take the bus?”  
  
Jongin falters. “I mean you can, if you want to. I just have free parking in the terminal, so I thought -- ”  
  
Sehun lifts his lip in a faint smirk. “That’s fine.”  
  
“Jongin!” someone calls out. When both Sehun and Jongin turn to look, Sehun’s shoulder brushes Jongin’s chest. Heechul stalks up to them. “Did you finish the papers I sent you?”  
  
Kyungsoo lets out a noisy sigh of exasperation.  
  
Jongin tries to convey his apology through a smile of resignation at Sehun, before herding Heechul into his office, where they can speak without Kyungsoo’s interference.  
  
  
  
Saturday morning begins with a typical breakfast of banana and peanut-butter toast and a side of scrambled eggs. Jongin sips on his latte just as he gets a text from an unknown number.  
  
_ready whenever you are - sehun_ _  
__  
_ Jongin replies, _Leaving now. Be ready to go in fifteen minutes._ _  
__  
_ “Did you eat yet?” Jongin says, after he finishes putting Sehun’s carry-on into the trunk and they’ve situated themselves in Jongin’s Mustang.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says. He looks haggard, but replies, “Did you?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Let me guess,” Sehun leans back in his chair, “Avocado toast and eggs?”  
  
Jongin snorts and pulls onto the freeway. “Close. Peanut-butter and banana.”  
  
They check-in and move through security with well-practiced ease, TSA pre-check enabling them to bypass crying babies and families looking for passports. It isn’t until they’re boarding the plane when a problem arises.  
  
“Sir,” a flight attendant says to Sehun, right before he’s about to slide into his seat. Jongin’s standing behind him, and there are passengers waiting behind him. “I’m going to have to ask you to place your bag in the overhead compartment.”  
  
Sehun turns. “This?” he holds up his wide, black briefcase, containing his laptop and papers, which, Jongin knows he had planned to work on during the flight. Jongin has a similar bag.  
  
“I’m afraid it’s too big to fit under the seat in front of you, I can help -- ”  
  
“It’ll fit,” Jongin interjects. He tries to turn a charming smile on, but the flight attendant is not having it.  
  
She repeats, “Sir, the bag must go into the overhead compartment -- ”  
  
Jongin takes a step forward. “It’ll fit, I’ve put bigger bags -- ”  
  
“Jongin,” Sehun says sharply, putting a hand on Jongin’s arm. Jongin stops reluctantly.  
  
The flight attendant looks at them, really looks at them. Jongin can see her look from the tight line of his jaw to the way Sehun’s fingers curl around Jongin’s wrist to the way he’s postured himself, put himself in front of Sehun almost protectively. Her smile turns tight.  
  
Jongin swallows and turns away.  
  
Sehun takes out his laptop and Jongin puts their carry-on and briefcases into the overhead compartment.  
  
“Thanks,” Sehun says blandly when they sit down. He sounds like he’s being sarcastic.  
  
“Maybe if you worked out, you could lift your own bags,” Jongin says.  
  
Sehun yawns. “Why would I do that when there are people like you, who feel the need to show off their big muscles, to do it for me?”  
  
“You think I have big muscles?”  
  
“ _You_ think you have big muscles.”  
  
A girl standing in the aisle, waiting to move ahead in the plane, overhears their conversation and snorts. Pretending to ignore her and Sehun, Jongin stuffs his headphones into his ears.  
  
Sehun knocks out before the plane even takes off. By the time in-flight service starts, he’s snoring lightly, his lips pursed. Jongin forces himself to look away.  
  
“Anything to drink?” the same flight attendant asks, as she rolls the cart by them.  
  
“I’m fine,” Jongin says.  
  
“And for your boyfriend?” she nods at sleeping Sehun.  
  
“He’s --  ” Jongin bites his tongue. He doesn’t have the energy to explain. “Coffee please.”  
  
“Sugar?”  
  
“And cream, too. Hazelnut, if you have it.”  
  
When Sehun wakes up, Jongin’s typing away on his laptop.  
  
“Did I miss the free drinks?” he blinks blearily. His hair is rumpled and he looks like an owl.  
  
“You know we’re in first-class right? We can just order drinks when we want them.”  
  
Sehun yawns, his tongue pink. “You’re so used to people bending over backwards to please you.”  
  
“No, I just know what I want.”  
  
“You’re just stubborn.”  
  
“That means I get what I want.”  
  
Sehun clears his throat and grabs his coffee from Jongin’s tray. He hums in content when he sniffs it. “This is really sweet.”  
  
“You don’t want it?”  
  
“No, I like it. But usually, airplane coffee is bitter.”  
  
Jongin lies, “It came like that.”  
  
Sehun drinks his coffee and looks away.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
The hotel is very nice.  
  
There’s an enormous tropical garden out front, leafy trees hanging over them as the valet boy takes their bags. Sehun keeps looking around -- at the swim-up bar and poolside cabana and at the ornate gold decoration -- so much that Jongin has to physically tug on his arm to get them going again. Interestingly enough, one sign in the lobby says that there’s an EXO club in this hotel as well -- a chain club, Sehun guesses.  
  
After checking in and dumping their things into their respective rooms, which are right across the hall from each other, they have to go straight into meetings. Thankfully, the conference rooms are just next to the lobby.  
  
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of meetings. Half of the names Sehun doesn’t recognize, and half of the people he’s introduced to he immediately forgets. But thankfully Jongin does almost all of the talking, so Sehun just sits back and scribbles down notes.  
  
The hotel catering brings up pad thai and papaya salad for lunch. Sehun barely has time to enjoy the food before they’re back in the conference rooms again.  
  
When the last meeting finally comes to an end, Sehun feels exhausted. Jongin’s still chit-chatting, smiling widely as he makes small talk in the elevator. When they reach their floor and the elevator doors close, leaving just Sehun and Jongin, Jongin’s smile drops and he slumps.  
  
“Get changed,” Jongin commands, in what Sehun has inwardly dubbed his department head voice. “Put on comfortable clothes and meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. We’re getting dinner.”  
  
Sehun would like nothing more than a nap, but does as Jongin requests.  
  
Sehun changes into a black pair of jeans and a loose shirt in deference to the humidity. Jongin’s wearing the same slacks and white dress shirt from before, except he’s abandoned the tie and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. Sehun resists temptation and does not look at the revealed skin.  
  
“Are you sure this is safe?” Sehun asks, when Jongin drags him outside to rent a motorcycle.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Jongin says dismissively, “I’ve done this before.”  
  
And in Jongin’s defense, he is actually quite skilled at driving the bike through Bangkok’s crowded streets. Sehun loosely holds onto Jongin’s waist, separating their bodies, until Jongin speeds up to avoid traffic; then he slides forward, hips snug against Jongin’s thighs, and holds on, so he won’t fall off.  
  
They drive to the night market, where Jongin expertly parks the bike and they walk around. Sehun tries catfish fried with red curry paste and spicy basil-fried minced pork, but finds that he likes thai crepes, which are filled with coconut cream and topped with egg, the best. It’s refreshing to walk through the crowded streets, hearing the clamor of patrons and street vendors as everyone tries to get the tourists to buy their food and wares; the smell of lemongrass and fried dough and delicious noodles wafts through the air. Though they don’t talk much, Jongin will point out a dish or shop once in a while, and in turn, Sehun will make a comment, ask a question or two. Sehun’s almost disappointed when they have to head back.  
  
After returning the motorcycle, in the lobby, Jongin hesitates when Sehun begins to make his way to the elevators.  
  
“Actually, I think I’m going out,” Jongin says, coming to a stop.  
  
“Like, to a club? You’re going out to get laid? Now?”  
  
Jongin has the decency to look offended. “It’s not like that -- ”  
  
“This is about EXO, isn’t it?” Sehun says. “Whatever you were doing at the club when we -- when I first met you, this is what you're doing, isn't it? The meeting this morning was a scam, a cover up. That's why you were upset when they told you I was going with you.”  
  
“This morning wasn’t -- wasn’t a _scam_ ,” Jongin retorts, “It was a legitimate meeting! Besides, how did you know I just didn’t want you to come?”  
  
“Get over yourself, Jongin, I must be the first observant assistant you have. It’s obvious.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin steps in, glancing around, “Fine, you’re smarter than I gave you credit for. What else do you want?”  
  
“For you to tell me what's going on! I don't want to be dragged into something…  illegal.”  
  
“I wouldn’t drag you -- ”  
  
Sehun gives Jongin a dry look.  
  
“Look,” Jongin turns around, all too aware of how they’re standing in the open, in public, where anyone could overhear them. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back, exasperated. A group of girls walks by, and more than a few give Jongin an appreciative look. Sehun steps forward without thinking, stepping in front of him. It must look -- possessive, or something; like they think Sehun’s a jealous boyfriend or whatever, because one of the girls widens her eyes and a few of them giggle. Sehun wants to correct them but they’re already walking away.  
  
Jongin doesn’t notice. “Just head up to the hotel room. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Sure,” Sehun says tartly. If Jongin thinks that he’s going to let it go that easily, he’s got another thing coming. “But you’re explaining everything to me tomorrow.”  
  
Jongin looks relieved.  
  
  
  
By the time Sehun goes up to his room, changes back into his business clothes, then comes back down to the lobby, he figures that Jongin’s had enough time to get into the club.  
  
Sehun finds his way to EXO and the bouncer barely glances at him before letting him in.  
  
This EXO is much different than the one Sehun met Jongin in. For one, there’s a large stage where a few belly-dancers are gyrating, and there’re tabletops and poles cleared for dancers. The music is loud and disorientating as Sehun makes his way toward a small room in the back.  
  
He isn’t sure what he’ll find -- maybe an entranceway to an upstairs room, like in Seoul -- but he’s interrupted by someone who says, “Hey, are you lost?”  
  
“No,” Sehun lies.  
  
“Okay,” the guy frowns at him. He’s wearing this black contraption of a top, with straps and buckles like the ones the dancers on stage were wearing, and heavy eyeliner. “Are you sure? Because this is for employees only.” The man points at the sign Sehun hadn’t seen.  
  
“You work here?”  
  
The other man’s frown deepens. “Are you sober?”  
  
“Look,” Sehun says, and he figures part of the truth will get him somewhere. “I’m here on a business trip with my boss. I lost him. Can you help me try and find him?”  
  
“Your boss,” the guy repeats skeptically.  
  
“We’re here on business.”  
  
Sehun expects to get kicked out, but the man’s eyes just widen in understanding. “Oh.”  
  
“Sun Junseo. Sound familiar?”  
  
The man glances back into the throng of the club, where now the stage is flashing with strobe lights. He shuts the door. “I don’t know what your boss told you, but whatever you’re trying to do? It won’t work.”  
  
“What I’m trying to do?”  
  
“You’re with Kai, right?”  
  
Sehun feels something uneasy twist in his stomach. “How’d you know that?”  
  
The man shrugs. “I know everyone else’s assistants.”  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“You can call me Tao. The businessmen always meet upstairs. Sometimes I get rotated up there.”  
  
“And that’s where you -- ” Sehun looks away.  
  
“No,” Tao scowls. “It’s not like that. We just serve drinks and look pretty. They pay really well,” he adds defensively.  
  
“I don’t -- ” Sehun begins, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it. “I don’t really care,” he settles on, “But I just want to know what they’re doing.”  
  
Another employee walks by, outfitted with the same sort of strappy black outfit, and looks at them suspiciously. Tao waves her on, in a sort of _get on with it_ motion.  
  
“See these guys here? We like Kai,” Tao explains quickly and quietly. “We respect him. He’s one of the only ones that doesn’t treat us like shit, and if you think -- ”  
  
“I’m not trying to -- to do anything like that,” Sehun hisses, “God, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”  
  
“You’re new, right?” Tao quirks an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah, you could tell?” Sehun crosses his arms.  
  
“Look kid, all I can tell you, is that whatever they’re doing, they’ve been doing it for years -- since before Kai was around. From what I understand it’s just a bit of trading business, helping out with the stocks. But when you’re around alcohol and pretty boys and girls,” Tao shrugs. “Deals go smoother.”  
  
“Tipping? That’s illegal.”  
  
“So is jaywalking and not stopping at stop signs.” Tao looks hesitant.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Are you really his assistant?”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It’s supposed to be a compliment, asshole. It means that you’re pretty for someone who’s supposedly just paid to take notes all day.”  
  
“This is not what we’re supposed to be talking about right now,” Sehun snaps, flushing at the implication.  
  
“Are you’re telling me you haven’t had sex with him? God, he’s so hot, he wouldn’t even have to pay for me to have sex with him.”  
  
Sehun frowns. “Have you had sex with him?”  
  
“No,” Tao scowls, “No one here has. Have you?”  
  
“I thought you weren’t supposed to have sex with clients.”  
  
Tao rolls his eyes. “How are we supposed to make tips? Stop avoiding the question.”  
  
“It’s complicated,” Sehun protests faintly, feeling like this conversation has most definitely gotten out of hand. Even through the closed door, he can hear when the DJ changes the song and the crowd starts yelling.  
  
Tao whistles. “Was he good?”  
  
“He didn’t,” Sehun scrubs his face in frustration, “We didn’t fuck.”  
  
“So what, blowjobs? He didn’t pay enough?”  
  
“He was a one night stand, okay, before I started working for him, we were going to meet again but -- ”  
  
“Zitao!” the same girl comes back. “You’re up, come on.” She looks at Sehun and frowns. “Where’re your clothes? Are you working tonight?”  
  
Tao snorts. “He doesn’t work here, Jin.”  
  
“Well, why not?” She looks Sehun up and down.  
  
“I think I should get going,” Sehun begins, but neither worker seems to hear him.  
  
“I know,” Tao says to Jin, “That’s what I said.”  
  
They have a heated discussion about a distant coworker, Chen, before Sehun edges towards the door, feeling a vague sense of confusion.  
  
“Well,” Jin adjusts her hair, “If you come back, feel free to fill out an application form.”  
  
Tao snorts again and Sehun leaves before Jin can forcibly stuff him into a black outfit.  
  
**  
****  
** \---  
  
  
  
They don’t talk after Jongin heads to EXO.  
  
He goes through the work, talks smoothly and smiles and flirts with the EXO workers in all the right spots, but his mind is miles away, thinking of Sehun.  
  
They don’t talk that night -- Jongin comes back late and Sehun’s nowhere to be found -- or the next day on the flight back -- both of them are exhausted; both fall asleep.  
  
The next day at work, however, is another story.  
  
“Sehun, could you please copy these for me? I’d like to send a copy of these forms upstairs before tomorrow morning.”  
  
Scheduling appointments on the phone-line, the sliding of chairs, murmured conversations, a printer scanning -- the familiar sounds of the office float over them. It’s a normal day.  
  
Sehun looks up when Jongin steps into his cubicle to place papers on the desk. “You want me to copy these for you?” Sehun says. He sounds disbelieving, and curt.  
  
Jongin reminds himself to stay polite. “Please.”  
  
“I copied these for you yesterday.” Sehun’s frown deepens.  
  
“I know, but I want more copies to send upstairs, like I said.”  
  
“I already emailed the PDF. Why do you need -- ”  
  
Jongin says through gritted teeth, “Please scan them. I want hard copies at the meeting tomorrow.”  
  
“I accounted for that when I printed out the forms yesterday.”  
  
“But did you see my correction?”  
  
“The misspelling on the last page? I fixed that before copying the forms yesterday,” Sehun narrows his eyes. He doesn’t say, “Who do you think I am?” but Jongin hears it anyway.  
  
“You changed the forms without telling me?”  
  
“It was a _spelling_ error, I think I can -- ”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, I am your _boss_ , and if you change something -- ” Jongin breaks off, finally realizing how loud they’ve been. Jongin’s stepped closer during this heated conversation, his arm tightly gripping the back of Sehun’s chair. Sehun’s neck is tilted back, his eyes dark and shiny. His nostrils flare.  
  
Jongin lets go of the chair and takes a step back, heart hammering.  
  
Sehun’s eyes dart behind Jongin. When Jongin looks over his shoulder, he sees Baekhyun watching them carefully.  
  
“Scan the papers,” Jongin hisses, before turning on his heels and marching away to his office. Kyungsoo, the nosy shit, lets out a low whistle from behind his cubicle. “The rest of you, get back to work.”  
  
Baekhyun subtly follows Jongin into the office.  
  
“I don’t want to hear it,” Jongin snaps. He throws himself into his chair and snatches a piece of paper.  
  
“I didn’t say anything,” Baekhyun protests.  
  
“You were going to.” Jongin glares at his paper, unable to read with the anger still boiling inside of him.  
  
“Fine, I’ll say it, since you’re so opposed to listening to my advice.”  
  
“God, Baekhyun, he’s just -- he never addresses me properly in front of my employees, and he thinks -- ”  
  
“You work well together,” Baekhyun interrupts. “You’re more productive when your schedule is cleaner and you seem more focused… ”  
  
Jongin scrubs his eyes, not really listening. Grudgingly, he can admit that Sehun’s a half-decent employee, better than his previous assistants, sure; but no one’s ever bothered to stand up to him like this before, much less in front of the rest of the department. Jongin doesn’t mind being corrected -- it’s just -- something about _Sehun_ \--  
  
Baekhyun is saying, “I mean, we were all expecting you to blow over, to yell at each other at some point. There’s just so much tension between you -- ”  
  
Yeah, Jongin wants to say, bitingly sarcastic, you got that one right on, Baekhyun; but he manages to bite his tongue.  
  
Continuing on, Baekhyun goes, “But you’ve done so much together already, so please, just bear with him.”  
  
“He’s never rude to anyone else,” Jongin protests, feeling the need to defend himself, “It’s just me!”  
  
“Then maybe give him the job he’s expecting,” Baekhyun retorts sharply, without sympathy.  
  
  
  
After lunch, when Jongin enters his office, Sehun’s standing by the desk, looking over the open folder on Jongin’s desk. Sehun had been mildly upset yesterday when Jongin avoided explaining anything about EXO, but he seemed to brush off the whole thing. Apparently not, however, since now he’s trying to find answers himself.  
  
“What are you doing?” Jongin stops in his tracks.  
  
“Looking over your paper,” Sehun says without even glancing upwards.  
  
He’s so nonchalant about it, a blatant admission of looking at private information.  
  
Jongin locks the door.  
  
“What are you doing,” Jongin repeats, lower this time. He forces himself to stay calm, but he’s never been the best at controlling himself around Oh Sehun.  
  
“I just told you, were you listening? I'm looking over your work.”  
  
“I mean,” Jongin says, and he waits until Sehun looks up. “Those are confidential.”  
  
“This is what I'm paid to do,” Sehun says, slowly, as if Jongin’s exceptionally stupid.  
  
“I pay you,” Jongin hisses, “To stay out of the way.”  
  
Sehun puts the papers down and straightens up. “You don’t pay me. Last time I checked it was your father that does that.”  
  
Jongin slams his briefcase down, uncaring of the contents. “Don’t look at those.”  
  
Sehun challenges, “Or what?”  
  
“Don’t,” Jongin shakes his head, breathing deliberately through his nose, “Don’t talk back like that to me.”  
  
“I'm your assistant, this is what I'm supposed to do,” Sehun gestures at the papers, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“Don’t talk back to me,” Jongin says lowly, “You’re not allowed to -- ”  
  
“I'm not allowed to?” Sehun raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to pull that card now? When you’ve been acting like -- ”  
  
“Like what,” Jongin says, stepping closer. His heart is pounding his chest. He can’t tell whether he wants to fight Sehun or fuck him.  
  
“I'm your assistant, I read your files. I check your numbers.”  
  
Anger simmers in Jongin’s gut; he hasn’t had lunch, endured an extra long meeting and has a mountain of paperwork to go through. He can’t control --  
  
“Don’t read my things without my permission,” Jongin says loudly.  
  
“These aren’t your things!” Sehun’s eyes flash. “These are the company’s things. Last time I checked, you’re a company employee as well.”  
  
In a violent rush, Jongin lunges forward, grabs onto Sehun’s tie; he pushes them forward so that the backs of Sehun’s thighs push against the desk. “Don’t talk back to me.”  
  
“So you want me to be your servant now,” Sehun says, smirking. And this is a _monumentally_ bad idea, Jongin realizes, because he’s close enough to smell Sehun, smell his intoxicating cologne, feel the warmth of his thighs, and Jongin’s hand is so fucking close to Sehun’s throat, his pale skin, his lips -- “You want me to obey everything you say, because that’ll definitely help you.” At this, Jongin’s balls tighten.  
  
“It’ll help me more than you being in my way.”  
  
“I'm in your way? You were the one who pushed me against the desk.”  
  
“You let me,” Jongin says, but his voice quavers.  
  
Sehun’s eyelashes are long and curled, brushing delicately against his cheek. Perfection. “I let you get away with a lot.”  
  
Jongin has to know -- he has to hear it, he has --  
  
“Why?”  
  
Sehun makes a noise of frustration and tries to push off Jongin. Jongin resolutely tightens his grip on Sehun’s tie; Sehun’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows and Jongin stares. Sehun’s skin, his smell, the current of lust threading through the air -- it’s all a heady cocktail and goes straight to Jongin’s groin.  
  
“Tell me,” Jongin insists.  
  
“Don’t make me say it.”  
  
“Say what?”  
  
Sehun turns away again, laughing without humor. Something in Jongin’s chest locks up tightly, like a fist grabbed his heart and _squeezed_. There’s no way -- there is no way that Sehun’s saying what Jongin thinks he’s saying --  
  
“Say what,” Jongin repeats sharply, “Sehun -- ”  
  
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Sehun says, but he sounds -- he sounds breathless and Jongin can’t stop looking at his mouth, his lips, his throat. God, the smell of him, the feel of his body this close --  
  
Sehun says nothing but his lack of an answer is answer enough.  
  
Jongin steps forward subconsciously, a low hum starting deep in his throat, maybe starting his belly, at the base of his gut, the root of his desire. And then he’s standing in between Sehun's legs, one hand still gripped firmly on Sehun’s tie, one hand planted on the desk next to Sehun’s thigh.  
  
He can’t stop -- can’t resist --  
  
“Tell me to stop,” Jongin whispers, leaning close. He moves the hand on the desk to rest on Sehun’s hip, leans close to press his mouth against the skin under Sehun’s jaw. He inhales deeply -- like… like an animal, like Sehun’s unlocked something deep and primitive and _raw_ , within him. Sehun shudders and Jongin relishes the feel of Sehun’s body quivering under his own. It feels like an admission.  
  
“Tell me to stop,” Jongin says again, “And I’ll stop.” His fingers clutch Sehun’s tie so tight his knuckles turn white; four nails dig into Jongin’s palm. The pain anchors him.  
  
Sehun breathes in through his mouth, noisy and panting and Jongin wants to slam him against this desk, fuck right here; instead the hand on Jongin’s hip moves towards Sehun’s lap, reaching down to cup the growing hardness there.  
  
Sehun sucks in a breath shakily, reaches up and cards his fingers through Jongin’s hair. Jongin -- Jongin has to close his eyes, press his nails into his palm so hard it feels like he’s bleeding; distantly, Jongin thinks he must be bleeding, he’s got to be --  
  
Minutely, Sehun rocks his hips up, his cock pulse in Jongin’s grip. In response, Jongin squeezes Sehun through his pants and rocks his own hips forward, rubbing his crotch against Sehun’s thigh, hot, tense, desperate.  
  
Sehun starts to moan, unbelievably loud in the quiet of the office. Jongin’s heart jerks in anxiousness; he lunges forward and catches the moan in a kiss.  
  
“We can’t,” Jongin pants, breaking away. His head feels cloudy, he can’t think clearly, and if they don’t stop now --  
  
“We -- what -- ”  
  
Sehun looks -- he looks wrecked: his lips starting to turn red, clothes rumpled, and a noticeable bulge in his pants, though Jongin’s sure if he’d look in a mirror he’d look worse.  
  
Jongin glances at his watch. 1:58PM. His hand trembles. He jerks himself away from Sehun. “We have a meeting at two,” he swears under his breath, “We’re going to be late.”  
  
“I cancelled it,” Sehun says. He’s still sitting against Jongin’s desk.  
  
“I know,” Jongin snaps, running his hands through his hair. “And I put it back on the schedule.”  
  
“You have -- ” Sehun looks at Jongin and something in his face tightens. “Your hair, stop, stop! You’re making it worse.”  
  
“Hurry,” Jongin grumbles, smoothing down the lines of his shirt. His heart’s still pounding. He can’t believe how close they came -- how close _he_ came -- to losing control, in the _office_ , during a _work day_ \--  
  
“Whose fault is this?” Sehun mutters but he runs his slender fingers through Jongin’s hair nonetheless, and Jongin allows himself one second of weakness: closes his eyes and leans into Sehun’s gentle touch.  
  
“Come on,” Jongin says sharply, forcing all emotion from his voice, when Sehun finishes. “Clean up, fix that,” he jerks his head in the direction of Sehun’s crotch. He does not let his gaze linger.  
  
“Again, whose fault -- ”  
  
“I don’t want to hear it,” Jongin snaps, grabbing his briefcase and looking over Sehun. “Put on your suit jacket. We’re late.”  
  
  
  
Jongin’s father looks up when he and Sehun slip into the meeting ten minutes late. Jongin steals a glance at Sehun: his assistant looks presentable, face a little flushed and lips parted pretty and red, and okay, so maybe Jongin’s looking a little too closely. Heechul gives them a suspicious look and Jongin makes note to never fucking touch Sehun’s dick again. (Wait to see how long that particular resolution lasts. Hint: not very.)  
  
Yeseul, another department head, clears her throat now. “As I was saying.” She goes on about quarterly earnings, and Jongin half-listens, half-watches Sehun scribble out some notes. There’s a stain of ink on his fingers.  
  
“Any comments?” Jongin raises a hand. “Mr. Kim?”  
  
“What if we could find a way to make more products?”  
  
Yeseul raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I mean, we’ve gotten passive. Every year, we use the same technology to produce what we need. If we can implement some of the changes that R&D is giving us, we can boost our sales and revenue.”  
  
“That sounds promising,” Yeseul says. “But how would we fund something like that?”  
  
“It’s a plan for the future,” Jongin insists, sitting up straighter. “An idea. I’m sure if -- ”  
  
She continues, “We can’t -- ”  
  
From beside him, Sehun pushes a paper over. Jongin is about to turn and hiss, “not now,” but Sehun touches him under the table, one hand on Jongin’s thigh, heavy and deliberate; so Jongin glances at the paper and --  
  
Oh Sehun, you fucking delight.  
  
“What about your new labs?”  
  
“What about them,” she frowns.  
  
“Well, if these calculations are correct,” Jongin says smoothly, “We can switch a few of your resources around, and have enough to allocate toward funding new implementations.”  
  
Jongin slides over the paper.  
  
“Well,” another woman interrupts, looking over Yeseul’s shoulder. “I’m glad you did your homework, Jongin.”  
  
Yeseul nods approvingly, offering Jongin a rare smile.  
  
“It was thanks to my assistant, Sehun.”  
  
“Mr. Oh? You did this?” Yeseul asks.  
  
“Mr. Kim asked me to,” Sehun says smoothly. The lie sounds so easy and authentic, Jongin has to remind himself that he did not in fact ask Sehun to do anything on this matter. “But since you have been working with him longer than me, I'm sure you know he always puts his actions where his words are.”  
  
Jongin smiles through his teeth and pinches Sehun’s hand where it’s still gripping Jongin’s thigh.  
  
  
  
“Thank you,” Jongin says genuinely, following Sehun to his cubicle. Lunch has just started; there’s no one in the office.  
  
“Still worried about me sticking my nose where it doesn't belong?”  
  
“Yes,” Jongin says honestly, “I worry about you.”  
  
“Don’t. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”  
  
“It’s my job to take care of you.”  
  
Sehun sits, but rolls back his chair so he can look up at Jongin. His shirt’s pulled tight across his chest. “Oh, it’s your job now? I thought your job was ignoring me.”  
  
Jongin scrubs his face with both hands. “You’re impossible.”  
  
“Don’t you love a challenge?”  
  
“I do,” Jongin says, pulling up a chair, “That's why I haven't fired you yet.”  
  
“Congratulations,” Sehun retorts dryly.  
  
“What were you doing in my office before the meeting?” Jongin asks, except this time without heat.  
  
Sehun looks up warily. “Wouldn't you like to know?”  
  
“I won’t yell at you.”  
  
“But you'll file it away and probably bring it up later.”  
  
“Just tell me.”  
  
“Your numbers are wrong.” Sehun says, “For this quarter’s earnings you forgot to add another factor.” He hands over a paper and taps a circled digit. “This. From page twenty-four.”  
  
Jongin glances over it, but it seems as though Sehun's correct. “Would you check my work from now on if I asked you to?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Sehun says easily, snatching the paper back and rolling his chair back to sit behind his desk.  
  
“I'm serious, you are -- ” Jongin scratches the back of his head in an uncharacteristic display of embarrassment. “You’re really good.”  
  
“That’s why I was hired,” Sehun says exasperatedly, but he looks faintly pleased. Jongin makes note to praise him more often.  
  
“But still.”  
  
“Don’t you have a company to run?” Sehun asks, tapping at his laptop.  
  
“Seeing as you just saved me a not insignificant amount of money,” Jongin says in reference to the mistake Sehun found, “I think we deserve a few minutes off.”  
  
“And you spend them with me?”  
  
“I’m here, aren’t I?”  
  
“Get out,” Sehun says flatly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You may be lazing around, but I still have work to do. You're distracting me,” Sehun waves a hand toward the door without looking up from his papers.  
  
“You think I’m distracting?” Jongin smiles.  
  
“In an annoying way. Get lost.”  
  
“That’s boss to you,” Jongin says but without any real heat behind it.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
Sehun meets Kim Junmyeon on a quiet Tuesday, when the latter introduces himself politely in the break room. “Oh Sehun, right? I’ve heard much about you! My name is Kim Junmyeon.”  
  
“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” Sehun bows customarily.  
  
“Please, call me Junmyeon. I just wanted to ask about your availability -- your notes from the Bangkok trip were wonderful, and we just were invited for another business trip. Only one day, as before, so you won’t be home from long. Do you think you could make it? You’d be nicely compensated, of course.”  
  
Very nicely compensated, if last time was indication of anything. “I think I am,” Sehun says, sipping at his coffee. “Where will we be going?”  
  
  
  
Yokohama, Japan is a bustling city.  
  
They don’t have time to explore much, or even speak to one another; deadlines are close, pressing in on the both of them, so Sehun and Jongin alternatively sleep and work on the plane ride over, before being ushered directly into meetings that take nearly the entire morning and afternoon.  
  
But the evening is theirs.  
  
There’s this wonderful little ramen shop, so small that the line winds around the shop twice, but so delicious. They sit seiza on tatami mats and order quickly: there’re only two options on the menu -- small, or large.  
  
The tonkotsu ramen is incredible: pork bone soup, golden egg, and thin slices of meat simmering in a thick, salty broth. Afterwards, they wander and buy takoyaki, little balls of warm, fried dough filled with octopus and topped with sauce.  
  
Once they head back to the hotel, however, Jongin clears his throat and mutters something about going out. EXO then, again.  
  
Jongin must think that Sehun has forgotten about Bangkok, or doesn’t care anymore. Since Jongin won’t tell him anything, Sehun will find out for himself; he knows he can. Who knows what kind of shit Jongin would get into if Sehun doesn’t help him?  
  
Fifteen minutes after Jongin slinks away, making his excuses, Sehun slips into EXO and, since the layout is similar to Bangkok, heads towards the employee room in the back.  
  
“Hey,” Sehun calls out to the lone employee straightening a black uniform, can’t believing his luck, “You owe Tao a favor, right?”  
  
Chen straightens up. Frowns. “How do you know Tao? And who are you?”  
  
Sehun quirks his lip. “It’s a long story. Can I borrow that uniform?”  
  
  
  
Kim Jongin is a spectacularly undeniable, Class A failure.  
  
Sehun’s stuffed himself into this stupid and suggestive outfit only to see what a mess this deal is: the papers are spread blatantly over the main table in the empty lounge, in front of the couches where a meeting is supposed to be held soon. The whole agreement, from what Sehun’s been reading in the last five minutes, screams rip-off, and if Jongin’s reckless enough to agree to this deal then the company has much to lose.  
  
The absolute idiocracy of Jongin baffles Sehun so much that he loses track of time, and looks up hastily when the lounge door opens.  
  
Luckily, it’s only Jongin. “What are you doing here,” he hisses suddenly, yanking the door shut behind him and stalking forward, “Get the _fuck_ out.”  
  
“What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?” Sehun snaps, livid. “You’re sneaking around to make _these_ kinds of deals? Did you even read this contract?”  
  
“Of course I did!” Jongin says frantically, “But that’s beside the point! How did you get in here?”  
  
“You think you’re the only one who can smile pretty and get people to do things for you?”  
  
Jongin blinks dumbly. “You think my smile is pretty?”  
  
“You’re fucking impossible,” Sehun growls, “You’re _incorrigible_.”  
  
“Oh, you’re pulling out the big words for me now?” Jongin retorts.  
  
“Shut up -- you’re sneaking around to make these kinds of deals? What kind of businessman are you? Is this why you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing? Because you’re actually _losing the money you make_?”  
  
“I’m sneaking around to try and _get out_ of these deals!”  
  
Well that certainly is better. “Oh,” Sehun says. “Then why would get in in the first place?”  
  
“It wasn’t me!” Jongin protests. He’s about to add something else when the sound of footsteps drifts up.  
  
Inwardly, Sehun curses. He’d been so caught up in arguing with Jongin. There’s only one door in and out of the lounge; Jongin seems to recognize this the same time Sehun does, because he murmurs a quick, “Sorry,” before he hastily sits on a couch, and drags Sehun to his knees in front of the couch.  
  
Sehun catches on, but not quickly enough; his hand smashes against the table before he crumples in front of Jongin, kneeling between his legs. He bites his lip to stop the groan of pain.  
  
The door swings open. Jongin brushes his finger over Sehun’s cheek apologetically before cupping the back of his head, pushing him in so that Sehun’s nose touches inner thigh.  
  
Irrationally, Sehun’s pulse thickens. He shouldn’t be thinking about this, in this room full of shady businesspeople, but it must be some Pavlovian response to Sehun on his knees in front of Jongin, it _has_ to be --  
  
“Oh, Kai,” a woman sighs, “You always get the pretty ones.”  
  
Jongin smirks. It’s impossible to tell that he was so angry just a second ago; the mask slips on and he’s Kai again, and says while petting Sehun’s hair, “Alright -- time’s up baby, I’ve got to get to work now.”  
  
“We have time,” one of the men leers, “Give us a show.”  
  
Jongin laughs, but the tightening of his grip belies the easiness of his smile. Sehun can’t see behind him; all he can see is Jongin’s lap, but he can hear Chen murmuring, flirting with another woman in the background. Others are chatting amongst themselves, as they wait for things to get started.  
  
The doors open again and heels click against the wooden floor as another woman walks in. “Oh, is Kai finally indulging?”  
  
“No,” Jongin says firmly, “Let’s get to work.” He nudges Sehun up on his feet, but not before someone coos, “Oh, give him a kiss before he goes at least!”  
  
Jongin’s a fantastic actor: his eyes flash, lips curled possessively as he rakes his eyes over Sehun, takes in the exposed skin of Sehun’s throat, the black straps of his uniform, which Sehun knows leaves pale slivers of skin visible.  
  
But Sehun isn’t pretending, not when Jongin’s sitting there, legs splayed cockily, gesturing for Sehun to come closer like he knows Sehun can’t resist, this stupid smirk spreading across his face. He’s so handsome, Sehun’s stomach constricts.  
  
Sehun sways forward, and Jongin grabs the flimsy material covering Sehun’s chest, tugging him in for a filthy kiss.  
  
Sehun’s panting and his cheeks must be red when he pulls back. Jongin grins confidently and smacks Sehun’s ass. “I’ll see you later,” Jongin says suggestively, and someone lets out a low wolf-whistle. Jongin nudges Sehun one last time, and Sehun smirks. “Maybe,” he murmurs, and leaves to the sound of Chen’s laughing.  
  
  
  
Jongin knocks on Sehun’s hotel room door about an hour later.  
  
Sehun’s just finished taking a warm and very long shower. His skin is flushed and his hair still damp. His injured hand is starting to throb, knuckles raw. Jongin’s still dressed in formal attire.  
  
“Hi,” Sehun says belatedly.  
  
Jongin looks shy and vaguely guilty, opposite from how he looked at EXO. “I wanted -- ” he begins, then glances over his shoulder. The hallway is well-lit, and empty. He looks back at Sehun, who’s shirtless and whose hair curls wetly behind his ears. “Can you come to my room?”  
  
Sehun’s heart flips. “Yeah,” he says, carefully flat. “Let me put on a shirt.”  
  
Jongin’s room is just across the hall. It looks identical to Sehun’s, except messier. There’re clothes strewn on the chairs, and papers all over the desk. “I wanted to look at your hand,” Jongin says, apologetically, pulling out a box of antiseptic wipes and gauze, and an icepack.    
  
Sehun readjusts himself where he’s sitting at the foot of Jongin’s bed. “My room doesn’t have a first-aid kit,” he says slowly. He watches Jongin unwrap gauze and fumble with the wipes. Sehun feels like he’s missing something rather important.  
  
“None of them do.” Jongin looks away. “I, um, bought this.”  
  
“You bought it,” Sehun repeats, skeptical. “For me.” Sehun wonders if Jongin is nervous.  
  
Jongin delicately dabs the blood away from Sehun’s knuckles with a wipe. He starts, “I wanted to apologize -- ”  
  
“Don’t,” Sehun cuts in, “It wasn’t your fault. I was the one who went up there without permission. I thought you were… ” Sehun shrugs. “You know. And besides, I -- ” Sehun breaks off. _I liked it,_ he doesn’t say.  
  
Jongin’s hands are careful: he cleans Sehun’s scrapes and wraps up the whole thing with gauze. He hands Sehun the icepack without making eye-contact.  
  
“Thank you,” Sehun says.  
  
Sehun knows that the low hum that Jongin emits is supposed to be one of acknowledgement, but Sehun’s staring at Jongin’s mouth and he’s thinking of blowjobs.  
  
Sehun clears his throat. He should leave; they have nothing more to discuss. But the silence that hangs between them is waiting perfectly. Instead, Sehun goes, “Do you have another icepack?”  
  
“Of course,” Jongin’s about to move to get it from the mini-fridge, but Sehun says, “I don’t need it now, I was just wondering. I’ll get it after this one starts to melt.”  
  
“You can stay for a bit,” Jongin says after a pause. “I don’t mind.”  
  
“Just a bit,” Sehun agrees. Sehun wonders if they’re both lying.    
  
Faint music emanates from the TV, which plays quietly in the background. Sehun’s scrolling through his phone, now laying down on the single bed, while Jongin taps away at his laptop at the desk. The first icepack has been put back into the mini-fridge, and the second one brought out to replace it. It’s icy cold. The hotel AC blasting from the vent doesn’t help. Goosebumps break out on Sehun’s arms.  
  
Sehun hesitates only for a second before shimmying under the sheets. Just for a bit.  
  
  
  
Warmth. Awakening.  
  
The last dregs of Sehun’s vaguely pleasant dream fade away as he stirs. He registers the heat of a body spooning up behind him, snug and comforting. Darkness still envelops the room; the hotel curtains are drawn tightly shut. He can’t remember when he fell asleep.  
  
Jongin murmurs something, quiet sweet nothings, leans forward to press his length against Sehun. Sehun’s eyes flutter shut. Everything is soft and sleepy: their plain pajamas are worn and threadbare, no product in their hair; just sheets and warmth and darkness. No light, no noise, no rules here -- here, they are not Jongin and Sehun, not boss and assistant, just two nameless bodies rocking in sync. Sehun takes Jongin’s hand, which lingers around his waist, and slips it underneath his waistband.  
  
It feels like Jongin caresses the skin of Sehun’s lower belly for forever, his fingers dragging lightly, teasingly back and forth and back and forth. Sehun presses back against Jongin and lets his eyes stay shut. Time stretches out, slow and shapeless, oozing like liquid honey.  
  
Housekeeping knocks on their door sharply. Sehun’s eyes fly open. Sunlight’s leaking through the curtains; it’s morning, and suddenly, all of the boundaries come flooding back.  
  
Sehun leaps out of bed, his skin thrumming with nervousness and anxiousness and anticipation. Jongin jerks away equally fast, and disappears into the bathroom as Sehun opens the door.  
  
A reminder: everything is not perfect, nothing is simple; they are not allowed to touch each other, not like this. They aren’t supposed to. They shouldn’t.  
  
“We’ll be out in half an hour,” he says to the cleaning lady, his heart pounding; he wonders if she can see the rumpled bed behind them, still warm with their combined body heat, and abruptly closes the door with the resolute click.  
  
The bathroom door opens. “We leave for the airport as soon as we’re finished cleaning,” Jongin says curtly, all business. At his side, Jongin’s hand is curled into a tight fist.  
  
They aren’t supposed to.  
  
They shouldn’t.  
  
(They want to.)  
  
Sehun nods, and grabs his room key, all but flees to his own room.  
  
  
  
They drive to the airport in silence. They pretend nothing is wrong. After landing back home, they stop at Paris Baguette on the drive back. It’s an odd hour, not close enough to any meal time for the bakery to have anyone in it, so no one’s there to see them pick out their orders -- Sehun, with his sweet tooth, gets a raspberry cream cheese pastry while Jongin gets a curry croquette; both get the Honey Cold Brew Latte. They use the same wooden tray. The cashier barely glances at them. Jongin pays for them both.  
  
The pastries get eaten during the car ride home; Jongin nibbles his croquette with one hand and steers with the other, while Sehun mans the radio and alternatively munches happily on his pastry and talks about a fried chicken shop that Luhan wants to go to. Sweet refrains of Tchaikovsky fill the car.  
  
“I used to like ballet,” Jongin confesses during a lull in the conversation. He licks a few last crumbs off of his finger.  
  
Sehun finishes his pastry. He says, “Are you serious? Show me pictures of you in tutus, or I won’t believe it.”  
  
“I’m serious,” Jongin insists. “My last show was Swan Lake when I was sixteen.”  
  
Sehun laughs; Jongin moves to smack his thigh but Sehun anticipates it. He grabs the offending arm and Jongin, arm caught, squeezes Sehun’s thigh in retaliation.    
  
Sehun shifts and Jongin’s hand slips, slides up his upper thigh. Sehun squawks shrilly, undignified as he jerks away so he won’t have to deal with an unnecessary erection.  
  
Jongin smirks knowingly. Sehun slaps Jongin’s shoulder and Jongin pretends to wince in pain even though Sehun knows it didn't hurt.  
  
Google Maps tells them that there’s been an accident. Sehun closes his eyes and leans his chair back. Jongin hums the clarinet line and Sehun feels content.  
  
“Tell me about the ballet,” Sehun says, some time later.  
  
“I loved it,” Jongin says, with a faint smile, “We had official practice once a week but I would sneak into the studio as often as I could. But dancers don’t make money.” Jongin lightly shrugs. “Stopped dancing and started working for my father instead. Now I’m department head.”  
  
“You still dance?”  
  
“No.”  
  
In front of Sehun’s house a few minutes later, Jongin stops the car.  
  
“I’m not a good person,” Jongin says lowly, staring forward. “If you want to leave the department, I can transfer you over in less than a week. I’ll make sure that you’re paid the same -- ”  
  
“I know what I'm doing,” Sehun replies, suddenly irritated. “You don't have to -- ”  
  
“But you don’t -- ” Jongin makes a noise of frustration. “You don’t know. I can’t treat you differently -- I need everyone to see that I’m being fair.”  
  
“If anything, everyone thinks you treat me unfairly,” Sehun retorts, “I do fantastic work and you barely acknowledge it. If you don’t want me to work for you, just say so.”  
  
“No,  I just…  I don't want -- ” Jongin takes a deep breath, forcibly calming himself down. “I don't know if I can control myself.”  
  
He can’t stop his body from shivering. Jongin wants Sehun. Sehun wants Jongin. This is the pure and simple truth.  
  
“I don't want to leave,” Sehun admits, painfully, childishly. He can’t bear to see Jongin’s reaction; Sehun opens the car door and steps out into the cold night air.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
Things are going well. Like, really well, if Jongin’s being honest.  
  
His father pulls Jongin in a few days after Yokohama to sincerely offer congratulations in securing a new partnership with another company; Yeseul stops by the day after that to say:  
  
“That boy of yours, Sehun? He’s doing very, very well. If you weren’t Mr. Kim’s son I’d be asking for you to switch Sehun over to my department. Give him a promotion, at the very least.”  
  
Jongin’s riding off that high when he stops by Sehun’s cubicle after a long meeting.  
  
“Did you eat yet?”  
  
“I -- what?” Sehun looks up.  
  
“Lunch just started. Did you already eat?”  
  
“I was going to finish this first.”  
  
Jongin licks his lips. “Let me take you out.” This is something he’d do for any of his employees, Jongin reasons to himself. He’s taken Kyungsoo and Baekhyun and Jisoo from accounting out for lunch before, after meetings or presentations had run late. “You’ve been working hard. Let me treat you.”  
  
“I’m busy.”  
  
“What will you eat?”  
  
“I’ll find something later,” Sehun says dismissively, just as his stomach rumbles.  
  
Jongin pauses.  
  
Sehun’s expression wavers.  
  
“Let me take you out,” Jongin repeats, more firmly this time.  
  
Sehun looks away, and if Jongin weren’t watching him (this is purely hypothetical; Jongin’s gaze is drawn to Sehun like how bees are drawn to honey -- he always wants to look at Sehun), he would’ve missed the shy nod.  
  
  
  
Jongin takes them out to this small Vietnamese shop, a ten minute walk down the street. It’s crowded, and a little cramped; no one pays any attention to them as they sit down and order. Under the table, their knees knock and neither of them moves to pull away.  
  
The shop’s full of the smell of beef stock and noodles. Conversation from across the store wafts over them. Pots and pans clang in a small kitchen behind them.  
  
Sehun gets pho noodles and Jongin gets broken rice with shredded pork. Sehun squeezes fresh lime into his soup, squirts in hoisin sauce and tosses in a handful of bean sprouts for good measure. Jongin wants to watch him forever.  
  
They’re halfway through eating when Sehun looks up and notices Jongin watching.  
  
Concernedly, Sehun asks, “Is your food good?” His eyes stray -- over the leaf of Thai basil in between their plates, sliding up the skin of Jongin’s wrists where he’d pushed up his sleeves in deference to the heat -- before meeting Jongin’s gaze.  
  
The flush that rises on Jongin’s cheeks burns. “It’s perfect.”  
  
  
  
Baekhyun whines a bit, going on about how the proletariat need to eat too, like usual, when he sees the box of leftovers on Jongin’s desk. “How come you can’t take me out, Jongin?” he gripes, even though they just had bibimbap last week. Jongin makes loose plans with him to go out for barbecue later, then dives back into work.  
  
The little hand chases the big hand around the clock, but it only seems like a heartbeat has passed when Jongin’s interrupted again, this time, with a soft knock on his doorframe.  
  
“Finished?” Sehun asks lowly. The collar of his shirt is rumpled.  
  
Jongin admits, “Not quite.”  
  
Quickly Sehun glances behind him with tired eyes. “Everyone’s gone. It’s getting late.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin drains the last of his coffee.  
  
“You should be going home as well.”  
  
“Are you finished?”  
  
Sehun nods.  
  
Jongin tosses the paper cup. “I’ll walk you out.”  
  
Darkness greets them when they step outside. Even though his Mustang waits for him in the parking lot, Jongin stops on the edge of the curb. Sehun bumps his shoulder gently before standing next to him. Jongin’s thoughts linger on the accidental contact for much too long.  
  
They stand there for a moment, looking forward. Their breaths fog in the cold.  
  
“Taxi?” Jongin prompts. It only takes Sehun a few seconds to call one. When it comes, Sehun turns around with a half-smile. “Good night.”  
  
Jongin waves and smiles back. “Good night.”  
  
  
  
Another day, Jongin comes in a little later, walking right into his office since the door’s open. Sehun and Junmyeon are talking. Jongin hears Sehun saying, “Thank you sir, of course.”  
  
Junmyeon looks up and smiles. “Junmyeon,” Jongin is unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice, “I didn’t expect to see you until later this afternoon.”  
  
“Sehun’s helping me with some papers,” Junmyeon explains, “Anyway I was just on my way.”  
  
Sehun says, “I’ll try my best to have these finished before tomorrow. Should I email you?”  
  
“Yes please. Thank you, Sehun.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
Jongin tries to ignore the fact that Sehun has never called him sir. Junmyeon isn't even his boss, he thinks. Jongin thinks of spicy, late-night ramen. He thinks of raspberry cream cheese and worn ballet slippers. He wants to know how often Sehun thinks of him.  
  
Junmyeon gives Jongin an appraising look before leaving. Jongin shuts the door behind him.  
  
“I finished the proposal you asked me to write,” Sehun says, when the silence becomes stilted.  
  
Jongin grunts in thanks, then walks over to stand next to Sehun behind his desk. They’re standing close -- too close -- shoulder to shoulder in front of the desk under the guise of looking at this stupid paper --  
  
Jongin inhales purposefully and reads the proposal.  
  
“This is really good,” Jongin says, shocked, when he finally reads the document; “How long did you spend on this?”  
  
“Maybe if your other employees did their job, I wouldn’t be cleaning up after them and I could finish my work on time.” His tone is dry and flat and perfectly Sehun; not the politely clipped voice that he uses to speak to Heechul or Junmyeon or even Baekhyun for that matter.  
  
Jongin smirks. “No one asked you to.”  
  
Sehun sighs annoyingly. "It’s like no one cares or something. How did you all get work done before me?”  
  
“I think we weren’t doing too badly.” Jongin knows that tone. Sehun doesn’t really mean it; he’s just looking to get a rise out of Jongin, wants to rile him up.  
  
Sehun snorts and leans over to correct something on the paper, one hand palm down on the desk and the other scratching something off.  
  
Jongin takes a step back because he’s a weak, weak man; he lets his gaze linger over the almost obscene swell of Sehun’s ass in those tight slacks. Jesus, Jongin wants to fuck him, bend him over this desk and slide into that tight, perfect heat --  
  
Sehun is saying something mildly insulting about accountants. Jongin doesn’t think before bringing a hand up and slapping Sehun’s ass playfully.  
  
The smack echoes in the large office.  
  
Sehun freezes and falls silent.  
  
“Fuck,” Jongin blurts out, stepping back and holding his hands out, like he’s under arrest, because all he can think of is _lawsuit, sexual harassment, abuse of power, liability liability liability_ \-- “I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry, Sehun, I -- ”  
  
Sehun turns around and his lips are slightly parted. His palms are planted flat on the desk and he’s still bent over, practically begging to be fucked. There’s an intense silence -- Jongin’s skin _crawls_ ; it feels like there isn’t enough room to breath, not when Sehun’s looking at him like that, waiting --  
  
Sehun says hoarsely, “Is that as hard as you can hit?”  
  
Jongin hesitates only a second.  
  
He smacks again, a little harder, enough for both of them to feel the sting. Sehun lurches forward a bit from the force of it, and his bottom lip droops a bit more, his mouth forming this small o; Jongin squeezes Sehun’s cheek and runs his thumb down the crease of his pants.  
  
“We shouldn’t,” Jongin begins distractedly as he massages Sehun’s ass. They shouldn’t, because this is a disaster waiting to happen. But Jongin’s still high off the praise they’d received from Yeseul, from his father, and he just wants to touch Sehun so _badly_ \--  
  
“Everyone’s out for lunch,” Sehun says, a little breathlessly; his head hangs as he faces forward again. That whole thing about control? Yeah, that’s a no-go. “No one’s here, God, just get on with it.”  
  
Part scoldingly and part desperately, Jongin says, “ _Sehun_.” He slides two hands onto Sehun’s slender waist, running his thumbs up and down Sehun’s back while admiring the view. “This isn’t -- ”  
  
“I bet you’re not even that good,” Sehun blurts out, thrusting back a bit, wiggling his ass like a goddamn exotic dancer; he’s reckless, _shameless_ , and Jongin loves it. “All those people you slept with? See your car and your nice penthouse, so of course you’re a good lay, right? They don’t want to tell you otherwise, think that they can get something out of you -- ”  
  
_Smack!_ Jongin slaps Sehun’s ass again, harder than previous times and squeezes again, kneading flesh like dough. “Shut up,” Jongin pants, his cock twitching already at the idea, “I’ll prove you wrong. God, I’ll fuck all of the doubt out of you.”  
  
“Can you even get them to sleep with you? Or do you have to pay them?”  
  
Jongin snarls and grabs the back of Sehun’s shirt, tugs him up and spins him around. Sehun’s pupils are blown.  “You’re going to show me now?” Sehun blabs, “Show me how you fuck so well, fuck like a dream -- _show me_ , God, Jongin just -- ”  
  
“No,” Jongin smiles with his teeth. He releases Sehun, who stumbles back, his ass hitting the desk behind him. Jongin slowly, deliberately takes a seat in his chair. “I’m going to shut you up.”  
  
Sehun clutches the desk behind him. “Will you make me take your cock? Make me suck you off?”  
  
“Is that what you want?” Jongin leans back in his chair. There’s a current of electricity, of tension, that is circling around the room. Jongin doesn’t fucking care anymore; he’s been waiting since Yokohama, since Bangkok, since he left Sehun in his penthouse that very first morning --  
  
Sehun pushes off the desk and locks the door. When he comes back, his eyes are eager. “Make me want it,” Sehun challenges. He’s so handsome with his hair pushed back. Jongin wants to take a picture of him like this, his cheeks slightly, almost imperceptibly flushed, his eyes dark.  
  
Instead, he puts his hands on the armrests of the chair, spreads his legs a bit. “I’m not going to be nice about this,” Jongin’s voice is raspy when he speaks.  
  
“If I wanted something nice, I wouldn’t have come in here insulting you.”  
  
“Get on your knees,” Jongin commands with authority.  
  
Sehun bites his lip, presumably to stop himself from talking back, and folds gracefully to his knees in front of Jongin. He looks up expectantly. For a moment, Jongin’s struck by how _pretty_ Sehun is: his eyebrows are dark and perfectly shaped, his lips small and puckered and pink; his skin is like a doll’s and Jongin wants to ruin him.  
  
“Don’t hold back,” Sehun says.  
  
“Do you want it hard? You want it rough? Is that why you’ve been so mouthy this whole day?”  
  
Sehun shudders.  
  
“Beg for it.”  
  
Sehun licks his lips, his small tongue swiping out quickly, like a kitten lick. “Please,” he says, quietly. “Please give me your cock.”  
  
Jongin swears under his breath and grabs onto the bulge in his pants, squeezes quick and furtive to relieve some of the pressure. Clearly, Jongin says, “Put your hands behind your back. Hold them there.”  
  
Sehun does so obediently. The line of his spine is ramrod straight, his shoulders back, knees forming a ninety degree angle. “Good boy,” Jongin says. “You’re so good for me, when you want my cock.”  
  
Sehun licks his lips again.  
  
Jongin tugs at his belt, undoes his zipper easily. He pulls out his dick and squeezes the base. They haven’t done anything but Jongin’s already afraid he’ll come too fast.  
  
“Come on,” Jongin nods towards Sehun. “Did you miss it?”  
  
On his knees, Sehun shuffles forward, covers the few inches before his chest hits the seat of Jongin’s chair, shoulders framed by Jongin’s knees. Jongin taps his dick against Sehun’s cheek.  
  
“I survived without it for three weeks, didn’t I?” Sehun says testily, eyes narrowing, so in contrast to the pretty way he was begging before.  
  
Jongin grabs Sehun by the hair, yanks him close and pushes Sehun’s face into his crotch. Sehun’s breath is warm against Jongin’s cock, his cheek mashed against Jongin’s upper thigh.  
  
Sehun wriggles closer, tries to press his mouth against Jongin’s cock.  
  
“You’ll take what I give you,” Jongin snaps, pulling Sehun back. Sehun’s throat is beautiful, this blank, pale canvas, decorated by his thin veins. “And you want it, don’t you? I don’t care what you say, I think deep down you know you want it.”  
  
Jongin doesn’t wait for a reply; he just cups the back of Sehun’s head with one hand and guides his dick into Sehun’s mouth with the other.  
  
There’s a low, throaty hum as Sehun moans his agreement. His throat is warm and wet. “God, you love it, don’t you?”  
  
Sehun makes another noise and pushes forward, hands still crossed behind his back, closing his eyes and taking in more of Jongin’s dick. Jongin hisses and cups both hands behind Sehun’s head, pushes him down until his cock hits something spongy at the back of Sehun’s throat -- Sehun gargles but doesn’t resist; if anything he pushes down more and _fuck_ , Jongin’s more turned on than he ever has been before. “So perfect, choking on my cock, on your knees, just like that -- ”  
  
Jongin humps mindlessly up into the slick hotness of Sehun’s mouth, curling his fingers tight into Sehun’s hair and chasing that delicious heat. A stab of worry cuts through Jongin’s pleasure when Sehun chokes, starts coughing on Jongin’s dick; so Jongin pulls him off by his hair and is faced with a teary Sehun, his mouth red, spittle still hanging from his bottom lip.  
  
“Thank you,” Sehun gets out before Jongin can begin to apologize, “Thank you, sir.”  
  
“That’s what you asked for, isn’t it?” Jongin says. His voice sounds tinny, echoey, like he’s listening to himself through the radio, like he's not really here. “You wanted my cock, you wanted to fuck yourself on it -- ”  
  
“Yes,” Sehun says, chest heaving, “Thank you, Mr. Kim.” His hands are still folded perfectly behind his back; he hadn’t even tried to push Jongin off.  
  
Holy shit.  
  
“I’m clean,” Sehun says suddenly. “Are you?” His voice is raw. “I -- you can -- ”  
  
Holy _shit._  
  
“Take off your pants. Bend over the desk.”  
  
Sehun scrambles to do so; Jongin leans back in his chair and frantically tries to calm himself down. He’s in way over his head but can’t stop himself from wanting more. He wants to stop himself, he would never want to _hurt_ Sehun, but something about Sehun’s taunts, his mouth, his lips, keeps pushing Jongin; he feels like he’s going to lose control. The thought of fucking Sehun bare -- Jongin has to suppress the urge to shudder.  
  
“Are you going to fuck me, or not?” Sehun’s voice breaks through Jongin’s thoughts. Sehun’s face down, ass up, as requested, his hands clutching onto the edge of Jongin’s desk, pants and boxers in a rumpled pile on the floor.  
  
“You’re so impatient,” Jongin rasps, “So needy.”  
  
“I’m beginning to think you don’t want to fuck me anymore, Jongin, you’re avoiding -- ”  
  
Jongin smacks Sehun’s ass, leaving a mark. Jongin wants to bite it. “Jongin now, huh? What happened to Mr. Kim?”  
  
The cabinet of the desk slides open easily when Jongin begins looking for lotion or something to ease the way; Sehun wiggles his ass a bit and says, “You’re only Mr. Kim when -- ”  
  
Jongin hits him again, and this time hard enough to see the outline of his fingers in pink. “I’m Mr. Kim to you, understand?”  
  
Sehun gasps out, “Yes, sir.”  
  
“So rude,” Jongin says. He grabs a bottle of hand lotion and squirts it out onto his fingers, spreading it a bit, rubbing it between his hands so it won’t be too cold. “So disrespectful. Is the only time you call me sir when I’m about to fuck you?”  
  
“It’s the only time you’re deserving. Sir.”  
  
A soft growl makes its way out of Jongin’s mouth without his permission; Jongin shoves a finger into Sehun unnecessarily rough but Sehun pushes back eagerly.  
  
Normally Jongin would take longer, tease and flirt while prepping, but Sehun’s panting heavily and Jongin’s own cock is throbbing between his legs; Jongin doesn’t want to hurt Sehun but, oddly enough, he doesn’t want to let him down either.  
  
“That’s enough,” Sehun croaks when his body adjusts to two of Jongin’s fingers. Sehun’s unbelievably tight, his muscles contracting around Jongin’s fingers in a way that makes his gut clench.  
  
“It’s not enough,” is the automatic retort, “You’re still so tight.”  
  
“Hurry up,” Sehun snaps, “I’m going to stand up and leave right now unless you -- ”  
  
The irritation that’s been simmering in Jongin’s veins comes to boil; Jongin angles and then slams in, the blunt head of his cock pushing, squeezing past the tight ring of muscle. Relentlessly, Jongin pushes in, despite the way Sehun’s body seems to be not ready, too tight and too hot and too perfect -- if Sehun says something, he’ll stop, but he’s just panting heavily, his flank trembling with each breath; Jongin can’t stop himself from pushing further.  
  
“Don’t come,” Jongin groans, when he finally, finally bottoms out. He isn’t sure which one of them he’s talking to. “Don’t come.”  
  
Sehun is so _tight_ , Jongin can’t even imagine how it must feel like for him, but he’s just breathing heavily, both of them are. Jongin has to literally stop and look up, anywhere but the pale expanse of skin, the curved line of a spine in front of him, staring into the tiled ceiling to bring himself back a bit. Jongin tries to concentrate on how the material of his slacks must be rasping against Sehun’s thighs, how smooth Sehun’s hips feel under Jongin’s callused fingers.  
  
“Move,” Sehun grunts quietly. His voice wavers and Jongin hesitates.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“I said, _move_.” Sehun jerks forward, then back again, and Jongin’s gone.  
  
He pulls out and slams forward, shoving Sehun against the desk; Sehun’s breath catches in shock but Jongin’s already positioning for the next thrust.  
  
There’s a pool of delicious heat, of this raw and primal want in Jongin’s belly, and he chases it, doesn’t hold back as he fucks into Sehun mercilessly. His hands are clutching, digging into Sehun’s hips as Jongin pistons in and out, forcefully enough that Sehun’s clawing, fumbling at the desk for purchase, trying to hold on as his legs hit the desk with each thrust.  
  
“You’re so fucking needy, so whiny,” Jongin pants out, uncaring of the bruises that will no doubt form on Sehun’s hips and thighs, “I swear this is the only way I can shut you up.”  
  
Sehun whimpers. “Please, Mr. Kim, I need it -- ”  
  
“I bet you do,” Jongin says darkly, and he doesn’t know where this is coming from but it just feels right, so he keeps talking, keeps fucking into Sehun, sawing into him. Jongin uses all of his strength, leveraging his weight to slam as hard as he can with each thrust. “You love it, don’t you? Tell me -- tell me how you want it Sehun.”  
  
“I want it h-hard,” Sehun’s voice hitches when Jongin thrusts in particularly forcefully, “I need to be fucked, _ah_ \-- ”  
  
Jongin holds onto Sehun’s waist with one hand and snakes the other around to yank at Sehun’s hair, pulling his head back so that his spine arches in this delicious curve, makes his ass move upwards in a better position so that Jongin can fuck him deeper, rough and raw and punishingly fast.  
  
Jongin hits Sehun’s ass, the loud smack joining the obscene sound of Jongin’s thighs slapping against Sehun’s flesh, the dirty little whines and whimpers that Sehun’s making. “Fuck,” Jongin pants, “fuck, yeah, you take my dick so good, Sehun, look at you -- ”  
  
Sehun clenches, muscles contracting and Jongin almost whites out; the only thing stopping him from coming is the way he squeezes his fingers around the base of his dick.  
  
Jongin jerks back and Sehun whines when Jongin’s dick slips out. Sehun’s hole is red and bruised, gaping and stretched. There’s no blood, but there’s a glisten of precome and lotion.  
  
“Please,” Sehun whines, “Mr. Kim, sir, I need it, God, I need -- ”  
  
“‘M gonna come,” Jongin croaks, “Wanna come on your face.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Sehun pants hurriedly, and he turns around -- his cock is hard and thick; his eyes are watery, cheeks red, and he looks --  
  
Before Jongin can decide on a word, Sehun’s already sliding to his knees, though his legs must be sore no doubt. “Please give it to me,” Sehun babbles, “Please come on my face, Mr. Kim, I need -- ”  
  
It only takes a few rough tugs before Jongin’s coming, his orgasm overwhelming, like a literal punch in the gut.  
  
Mouth open, eyes shut, Sehun looks like a pornstar when Jongin’s come hits his face. Most of it catches between Sehun’s parted lips, but some splatters on his chin, his cheeks. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are black and his nostrils flare. He looks _wrecked._  
  
“Oh my God,” Jongin says.  
  
Sehun wipes off the come with the back of his hand. He opens his mouth to say something but Jongin’s tugging him up, pushing him against the desk to kiss him with an open mouth.  
  
Sehun groans into the kiss and Jongin bites on his lip, then slides down, two hands pushing Sehun’s waist into the desk, pinning him there, before taking Sehun’s hard cock into his mouth.  
  
Since Sehun’s already close, Jongin only bobs his head three or four times, taking the head of Sehun’s cock into the pocket of his cheek, before Sehun jerks and comes with a cry.  
  
His entire body shudders, Sehun’s ribs and chest quaking with the force of his orgasm. Jongin closes his eyes and sucks him through it, slurping loudly and obnoxiously as he swallows.  
  
A hand runs through Jongin’s hair. He sucks one last time before letting Sehun’s limp cock slip out of his mouth. Sehun’s other hand joins the first and Jongin closes his eyes, letting his forehead hit Sehun’s bare hip as Sehun touches his hair.  
  
“Seven out of ten,” Sehun says, and Jongin can hear his smirk.  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jongin says to Sehun’s thigh. “That was the best sex of my life.” And it was, no lie. That was unbelievably intense. Jongin normally has better control over his willpower, but he lost it all when Sehun bent over his desk.  
  
“Maybe your standards are just lower.”  
  
Jongin looks up and frowns a bit at that.  
  
Sehun laughs and tugs him up for a kiss.  
  
“Joking,” Sehun mumbles when they pull apart. The room smells like sex and Sehun’s lips are pillowy, perfect. Jongin can’t even bring himself to care about the disgusting way his sweaty clothes stick to his skin.  
  
“Ten out of ten?” Jongin says hopefully.  
  
“Stop trying to be cute. Nine and a half.”  
  
“What’d you dock half a point for?”  
  
“There’s always room for improvement. We’ll work on it next time.”  
  
Jongin laughs against Sehun’s cheek. Something -- probably Jongin’s phone -- buzzes and Sehun stiffens. “We shouldn’t have done this.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin mumbles. “Give me five minutes for some afterglow then I’ll go back to hating you.”  
  
Sehun snorts. It’s… weird, how easily they get along when fate isn’t trying to push them apart. Ever since that first night, even, Sehun has always matched Jongin stride for stride, understood him and treated him with this easy, candid manner.  
  
Jongin cleans up Sehun with tissues, opens the window and turns on the fans to air out the room. It smells -- it reeks of sex.  
  
Sehun kisses him before putting on his clothes. “I should get going,” he says, buttoning up his shirt.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin says, still dumb from the sex.  
  
Sehun smacks his cheek playfully. “Get to work, Mr. Kim. No slacking off.”  
  
Jongin grins; he knows his smile is slow and stupid but he can’t stop looking at Sehun like that. “Yes boss.”  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes and flips off Jongin as he leaves the office.  
  
It’s all too easy.  
  
  
  
Thirty minutes later, Heechul comes in seething. “What the fuck were you thinking?”  
  
Bewildered, Jongin looks up. “What?”  
  
“Are you serious?” Heechul hisses, “Don’t play dumb with me. Your office? Fucking stinks of sex. Sehun walks out of here five minutes after lunch looking like he got fucked within an inch of his life and you're sitting here, asking me, ‘what’?”  
  
Jongin’s heart sinks. “I don’t -- ”  
  
“Three employees -- three separate ones have come up to me within the last two weeks and asked why Sehun is getting special treatment.”  
  
“I’m not giving him special treatment,” Jongin says indignantly.  
  
“Before this, in the past eight years, you’ve taken exactly one assistant with you on a business trip. You’ve taken Sehun twice. Six weeks after he starts working here, Yeseul’s asking you to give him a promotion? Unheard of!”  
  
“He’s working hard, he’s smart, you helped hired him; you know that -- ”  
  
Heechul groans. “I know that, but do others? Can you just help me by seeing how this looks from an outside point of view?”  
  
This is everything Jongin had been trying to avoid. “It’s my fault,” Jongin says quickly, “I’m in the position of power and I abused it -- ”  
  
“That’s bullshit. I’ve seen you two: one look from you and it’s like he’ll drop his panties and bend right over. You can argue in front of the entire office all you’d like, but people are starting to catch on, Jongin. Not everyone is as observant as me, but I don’t think your people are stupid.”  
  
Jongin splutters, “That’s not -- ”  
  
“Point is, he never calls you sir and you stare at him when you think he isn’t looking. You two can never get over each other -- ”  
  
“He’s my _assistant_ , he’s _paid_ to talk to me!” There’s this low buzzing in Jongin’s head, he can’t -- he doesn’t --  
  
“Look,” Heechul takes pity, “Just keep your goddamn dick in your pants, make sure everyone can see he’s just a normal employee. Ride it out until the next deadline and then we’ll transfer him.”  
  
Jongin swears under his breath and resists the urge to put his head in his hands.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
“ -- really cute, I think we should go,” Luhan says, scrolling lazily through a macaron tag on Instagram. His screen is full of pink and green and purple pastels. He saves a post about galaxy pastries to his collections.  
  
“You’re paying,” Sehun says dryly. They’re preparing leftover kimchi stew -- Sehun’s just tossed enoki mushrooms, pork, more kimchi, soft tofu (the silken kind, because it’s the best), and onions into the pot. There’re frozen dumplings heating up in the microwave, and a steaming pot of rice waits for them. Luhan swings his legs as he sits at the countertop, talking about a new cafe that just opened up near his work.  
  
“It wouldn’t hurt you to eat out for once,” Luhan grumbles. He switches over to a Japanese cheesecake tag.  
  
“I eat out,” Sehun protests.  
  
Luhan’s about to reply hotly when the doorbell rings.  
  
“Hi,” Jongin says, shy and sheepish when Sehun opens the door. “Can I come in?”  
  
Sehun hopes none of his shock is betrayed on his face.  
  
Jongin stops when he sees Luhan in the kitchen. Luhan’s sparkly lockscreen fades to black. “Hey,” Luhan says. A knowing smirk spreads across his face and Luhan blatantly checks Jongin out. Sehun draws from his infinite pool of patience and does not scream.  
  
Jongin presses his lips together. “Is this -- is this a bad time?”  
  
“Nope,” Luhan pops the p, “I was just leaving,” he lies, grabbing his phone and wallet. “See you next week, Sehun. You’re paying.” He smirks and punches Sehun in the shoulder when he walks by. “Have a good time, you two!” he calls out suggestively. The door slams in his wake.  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin says, but he doesn’t sound too apologetic.  
  
Sehun suppresses a laugh. “Are you hungry? We were just about to have dinner.”  
  
“I could eat.”  
  
Sehun finishes putting into a few eggs and slices of cheese onto the kimchi soup; Jongin spoons out rice for them into two bowls. The microwave dings and Jongin pulls out the dumplings.  
  
“This is really good,” Jongin says, sipping on his stew. They’ve settled down at the kitchen countertop.  
  
Yellow yolk spills out from Sehun’s egg when he breaks it open. “Luhan made it,” Sehun says absently. Right on cue, Sehun’s phone dings with a text. _fcknig GET IT he’s even hotter irl ;))_  
  
Before he can think better of it, Sehun replies to Luhan with an eggplant emoji. When he looks up again, Jongin’s chewing his rice thoughtfully.  
  
“What did you want to tell me?”  
  
“How… how did you know I wanted to say something?”  
  
“You look like it.”  
  
Jongin looks like a kicked puppy. “It can wait,” he says finally.  
  
Sehun checks his phone again, and snorts into his kimchi stew. _tell him he btter put that MONSTER DICK to good fuckin use!!._ Luhan also sends the sweat emoji, the tongue emoji, the skull emoji, and the weird one of the face drooling.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just Luhan,” Sehun says, taking a bite of dumpling.  
  
“What’d he say?”  
  
He asked for it. Sehun reads, “Tell Jongin he better put that big dick to use.”  
  
Jongin coughs into his soup. “How does he know I have a big dick?”  
  
Sehun meets his gaze evenly. “No idea,” he smirks.  
  
They finish eating. Jongin starts to clear away the dishes, but Sehun says, “Go to sleep, you look exhausted.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jongin protests.  
  
“You can tell me whatever you want to tell me tomorrow,” Sehun points out. Remembering that it’s Friday, Sehun says, “I have nowhere to be tomorrow.”  
  
Jongin looks torn.  
  
“Bathroom’s second on the left, bedroom’s right next to it.”  
  
“Your bedroom?”  
  
“No, my mom’s. Yeah, it’s my bed, smartass.”  
  
“You’ll come to bed right?” Jongin persists.  
  
Sehun can’t resist; Jongin’s like a toddler. He leans in and kisses Jongin’s cheek. “Go to bed, you baby.”  
  
  
  
Waking up the next morning feels frightfully domestic.  
  
A now-familiar hardness nudges the back of Sehun’s thigh; Sehun moans in acquiescence, still half-asleep. They roll over and they have sex like that, slow and warm and sleepy. Sunlight filters in through the thin curtains, leaking into the room, soaking up Jongin’s hair, spilling onto Jongin’s muscles and his bare chest as he hitches up Sehun’s leg to slide in. Sehun drags him down for a kiss and invites him in.  
  
“Good morning,” Jongin says, when they finish.  
  
“Morning,” Sehun says, then promptly falls back asleep.  
  
When he wakes for the second time, Jongin’s playing with Sehun’s hair, lips moving against Sehun’s throat.  
  
“I don’t know if I should be insulted or complimented that you fell asleep after we fucked,” Jongin murmurs.  
  
“Insulted,” Sehun answers without missing a beat, adjusting himself on the pillow. “That was a terrible time,” he lies.  
  
Thankfully, Jongin’s good at detecting Sehun’s lies. Jongin snorts. “Are you up for a repeat performance?”  
  
“Hell, no,” Sehun says, but he lets Jongin kiss him anyway.  
  
By now, Jongin’s mouth is warm and familiar. Sehun opens up easily underneath him. It feels like every time they have sex, it gets better.  
  
But then Jongin’s hands come up and loop around Sehun’s wrists light, tugging them up and out of the way --  
  
“Wait,” Sehun says, breathlessly. He dives under the bed and grabs a rumpled, black silk tie. “Can you -- my hands -- ”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin says too fast. “Definitely, yeah.”  
  
So that’s how Sehun’s hands end up tied to the headboard, his head hanging between his shoulderblades, knees on the mattress. Though he feels very exposed, it’s prime position to be eaten out, Sehun discovers. He’s blushing, burning; his whole face must be red but he can’t stop from thrusting back into Jongin’s face, his tongue.  
  
A pleasant sting shoots up Sehun’s spine when Jongin smacks his ass, licks his rim one last time before slithering up and draping himself over Sehun, so that he can bite Sehun’s ear, work one hand down to tease Sehun’s nipples, and so that Sehun can feel the poke of Jongin’s hard dick against his thigh.  
  
“God,” Sehun manages to get out, “I hate you,” when Jongin runs his tongue down Sehun’s spine, licks each knob protruding out from skin. Three slick fingers slide into where Sehun’s hole is already gaping open.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin’s unbothered, “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I have a thing for angry sex, so I’m fine with that.”  
  
“Lucky thing I take it so well,” Sehun pants and then Jongin's thrusting into him.  
  
It’s quite fantastic: Jongin _does_ , despite Sehun’s tauntings, fuck like a dream. His thrusts are smooth, deep, expert, and his mouth is always preoccupied with some part of Sehun’s body.  
  
So halfway through, when Jongin pulls out and pants, “Wait, wait,” Sehun glares at the headboard in front of him and goes, “What is wrong with you?”  
  
Sehun yelps when Jongin smacks his ass.  
  
“I’ve been selfish,” Jongin says. “You can come first this time.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sehun says dryly, “Really. I appreciate the sentiment but if you don't get your stupid dick back in me -- ”  
  
Jongin flips them over -- Sehun ends up on his back, hands up behind his head -- and sucks up Sehun's cock, shoves three fingers into Sehun's ass, teasing at his prostate so skillfully Sehun almost cries. Almost.  
  
This white-hot surge rushes through Sehun’s head when he comes. He literally blacks out for a few seconds, and when he comes back, Jongin's nuzzling at Sehun's thigh. Sehun swallows around the lump in his throat, tries to catch his breath. “Are you still hard?”  
  
“I'm always hard around you.”  
  
Bullshit. “Shut the fuck up,” Sehun says, but it comes out overly fond.  
  
Jongin slips back in easily. Sehun wraps his legs around his waist and welcomes him in.  
  
Jongin's moving his hips in this skillful fluid motion; he's definitely a dancer, his hips rolling sinfully smooth -- but Sehun’s just come twice in the same morning and though the nap in between did help, drowsiness is beginning to return.  
  
“Are you kidding me,” Jongin snaps when Sehun’s eyes are falling shut. He glances at Sehun’s tied wrists, licks his lips. “Do you actually want to sleep?”  
  
“Up your game, Mr. Kim,” Sehun says, flexing his wrists experimentally; they’re still snug and if Sehun is being honest, the black silk looks very nice against his pale wrists. “Leave them on. Now make your big dick useful.”  
  
Jongin frowns and pulls out. “What if I’m not in the mood anymore?”  
  
Sehun suppresses the urge to yawn, but only just. “That’s a lie, you’re always in the mood.”  
  
“Are you calling me desperate?”  
  
Sehun eyes Jongin. Both he and Sehun have a matching set of eyebags from lack of sleep (perks of being workaholics, hah); Jongin’s hair is a mess, a few strands sticking to his forehead with sweat. His mouth is a rumpled line and Sehun’s never wanted him so badly.  
  
Sehun spreads his legs invitingly. He licks his lips and squirms a bit on the mattress, loving the way Jongin’s eyes drag over his chest, his hips, and thighs. “Please,” Sehun says, a little breathy, and he sounds so fucking annoying, like one of those pornstars who is always moaning too high --  
  
But Jongin eats that shit up, because his nostrils flare, and Sehun can pinpoint the exact moment he slips into his authoritative attitude. “Are you sure you want it, Sehun?” Jongin says, eyes narrowing. He’s still kneeling on the mattress, fingers circled loosely around Sehun’s calves, but his expression is steely, and Sehun feels his gut twinge. Sehun licks his lips again.  
  
“Please.”  
  
“I don’t think you really want it,” Jongin says darkly, and _fuck_ , that voice goes straight into Sehun’s balls. Jongin leans in, his knees between Sehun’s legs, arms on either side of Sehun’s torso. “Ask me nicely, Sehun.”  
  
“Please give me your cock, Mr. Kim,” Sehun says, shuddering when Jongin comes close to drag his tongue down Sehun’s neck. “I want it so badly, I need you to fuck me so hard.”  
  
The mattress creaks when Jongin adjusts his position, reaches down to yank up Sehun’s legs, angling his dick. “God,” Sehun pants, not even acting anymore, “Give me your fat fucking cock, come on, I -- ”  
  
Jongin lets out an actual, honest-to-God _growl_. Sehun doesn’t know when he got into that Tarzan shit, but it goes straight to his dick. Desire is a shallow ocean and Sehun floats in it, relishes the twists and tendrils of arousal even though he knows he can’t come again.  
  
A sharp inhale is all the warning Sehun gets before Jongin slams back in, hitting Sehun’s prostate so hard it almost hurts. Sehun lets out an undignified yelp, then scrambles to steady himself, grabbing onto the headboard and widening his stance on the bed.  
  
“You look so good,” Jongin hisses, “Tied up, begging for my dick.”  
  
A pitiful mewl is the only way Sehun can respond because then Jongin grabs him by the thighs and yanks him up, so that Sehun’s legs are hitched over Jongin’s shoulder. Sehun’s wrists are pulled tight by the knot, his spine bent awkwardly as Jongin folds him in two, but the angle is deep and wonderful; Sehun closes his eyes as the pleasure edges into pain, sharp and delicious.  
  
Talk about the duality of man, because Sehun’s here getting the best fuck of his life -- Jongin’s pummeling into him, so much that Sehun’s limp cock is bouncing on his stomach, drooling, and it’s _nasty_ and fantastic -- with the same man who shyly played footsie with him in a crowded noodle shop.  
  
Four of Jongin’s fingers wander up to Sehun’s mouth, brush against his lip; Sehun opens and sucks them in, tasting sweat and come.  
  
“Look at you,” Jongin groans lowly. “Stuffing my mouth with your fingers, eating up my dick, yeah, fucking take it Sehun, Jesus, _Sehun -- ”_  
  
Sehun can only warble around Jongin’s fingers. Jongin runs those same four fingers, slick with spit, down Sehun’s neck, presses possessively at Sehun’s throat, the span of his palm large enough to encompass the entire pillar of Sehun’s neck -- Jongin looks _destroyed_ \-- “Can I -- ”  
  
“Just,” Sehun grunts when Jongin slams in off-rhythm, “Ah -- not too tight --  ”  
  
“I’m -- I’m close,” Jongin says, out of character, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in this perfect organic shape; he’s thrusting artlessly, humping into Sehun unevenly, “Fuck, S-Sehun, can -- ”  
  
“Please fill me with your cock,” Sehun pants, breathy and moaning and _desperate,_ “Mr. Kim, sir, I’ll take it so good, I need it so badly, please, sir -- ”  
  
Jongin comes with one last desperate thrust; his fingers squeeze around Sehun’s throat and Sehun moans, deep and rough, tugging at his tied wrists as Jongin floods him with hot come.  
  
“Unh,” Jongin grunts, rocking messily into Sehun’s ass, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers tighten around Sehun’s windpipe; and Sehun’s eyes tear up when he chokes out, “Jongin -- ”  
  
Immediately Jongin jerks back, as if burned. “Sorry,” he croaks, “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I -- ” his dick slips out. Sehun pretends not to see Jongin’s hands tremble when he reaches up to undo the knot.  
  
Sehun’s wrists slip out and Sehun rubs them. Jongin pulls back but looks like he wants to touch so Sehun quirks his lips at him, closing his eyes, curling into Jongin’s chest.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jongin says, moving so he can look Sehun in the eye, “Are you okay? That was my fault -- ”  
  
Sehun’s throat’s a little bruised but, “I said you could,” Sehun reassures him, “I liked it.”  
  
Jongin still looks worried, so Sehun pulls him down for a wet, open kiss, until they fall, a sweaty, trembling mess of limbs and gasps and sweat onto the bed.  
  
“You’re into some freaky shit,” Jongin mumbles, nuzzling into Sehun’s shoulder a few minutes later.  
  
Sehun protests indignantly, “Did you, or did you not just have sex with me? What does that say about you?”  
  
Jongin chuckles. They bask there for a while, bodies curled into each other like commas.  
  
“What did you want to tell me?” Sehun asks, when he’s finally caught his breath. He runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair.  
  
Jongin groans, shifting his head onto Sehun’s chest. “Really? Asking me during the afterglow?”  
  
Sehun looks down at Jongin. He’s a little sweaty, but he looks delectable: all smooth tan skin and well-defined muscles. Sehun can’t believe he hit that. “I like to play dirty.”  
  
“Ask me after breakfast.”  
  
Jongin wriggles closer and hugs Sehun tightly. Sehun kisses his temple, then asks, “Who said you’re invited for breakfast?”  
  
“Me. I’m making it.”  
  
Sehun doesn’t have any complaints with that.  
  
For all intents and purposes, Sehun knows that Jongin’s putting off whatever he wants to tell Sehun. But Jongin looks so right in Sehun’s kitchen -- doesn’t look anything like a department head or son of a CEO, dressed only in a ratty pair of Sehun’s sweatpants (which, coincidentally, are slung low on Jongin’s waist, revealing the dimples low on his back) -- as he shuffles around, trying to find enough ingredients to make a breakfast. So, whatever; Sehun lets him push off the inevitable.  
  
It isn’t that difficult really. Breakfast is matcha pancakes because apparently Sehun is destined to meet people who feel the need to actually try out recipes they find on the Internet (read: himself and Luhan) instead of just watching and never doing, like normal people.  
  
“Trust me,” Jongin says earnestly, “I saw it on YouTube!”  
  
Anyway, it doesn’t turn out to be a complete disaster: Jongin finds eggs, milk, some butter, and mixes that with matcha powder and salt and sugar. “You didn’t tell me you like to bake,” Jongin says, delighted at the spectrum of ingredients in Sehun’s kitchen.  
  
“Just because I have a lot of baking ingredients doesn’t mean I like to bake,” Sehun protests half-heartedly.  
  
“Sure,” Jongin replies easily. “Make me muffins later.”  
  
Jongin mixes everything while Sehun rags him for leaving such a mess. Jongin just smiles and pours the thick green batter into an oiled skillet.  
  
Sehun actually does most of the actual cooking, though the pancakes do turn out on the crispy side. Afterwards comes Greek yogurt, honey, raspberries, macadamia nuts, maple syrup, whipped cream -- Jongin grabs a bit of everything from the refrigerator and cupboard and together, they decorate a large stack of lopsided pancakes. They end up making a mess out of the whipped cream and honey (as in, aforementioned ingredients get eaten, and not off of pancakes), but Sehun blames himself for that one, since he thought it’d be a good idea to smear whipped cream on Jongin’s abs first. The pancakes are room temperature by the time they’ve both come for the third time that day, but they’re still delicious.  
  
“I talked to Heechul yesterday,” Jongin begins slowly.  
  
Sehun puts down his fork at the hesitation in Jongin’s voice.  
  
“Or, he talked to me,” Jongin corrects himself wryly. He saws at his pancake. Once a piece falls away, Jongin punctures it with his fork. He brings it to his mouth, between his teeth.  
  
(Some time in the not-too-distant future, Sehun will be walking down a small street when he sees a hipster breakfast shop selling melonpan and matcha pancakes and anpan -- it’s exactly the kind of store Luhan would like. The smell of matcha pancakes will stop him, and suddenly bring him back to this moment, memories flooding back, unbidden: he will think of sunlight in Jongin’s hair, white flour on Jongin’s bronze arms, and the taste of honey on skin. Here’s what Sehun does not yet know: the body remembers.)  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
Jongin exhales unsteadily. “They think I’m playing favorites. I -- I shouldn’t even be here.”  
  
Sehun puts another pancake onto Jongin’s plate, decorates it slowly with condiments to give Jongin time to collect his thoughts. Golden brown honey drips over the plate, edging into the white yogurt and slick over the red raspberries. The matcha is deep, earthy, green.  
  
“He told me to stop being so,” Jongin’s lip curls, “Obvious. I would ask to move you, but the project’s due soon -- ” Jongin breaks off.  
  
“Are you breaking up with me?” Sehun asks dryly, and the thin humor laced in his voice must be just right, because Jongin grins.  
  
“It’s not you, it’s me?” Jongin tries sheepishly.  
  
“What do you need from me?”  
  
“Everything should be normal, as normal as can be from now on,” Jongin stands a little straighter, his voice taking on that focused edge. “Afterwards, I’ll ask to transfer you to Yeseul’s department. The pay will be the same, and nothing will change, except for who you work for. And,” Jongin looks away, “After… ” he trails off but Sehun doesn’t need him to finish.  
  
Sehun kicks his feet and entangles his legs with Jongin’s under the table. While Jongin’s distracted by Sehun’s foot tracing up his thigh, Sehun leans over to steal a raspberry off his pancake.


End file.
